


I Don't Miss

by Jack_Wilder



Category: Justified
Genre: 5'2" with a 6'2" attitude, DO NOT REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS ON OTHER SITES!!, F/M, Injury to Rachel in Chapter 3 on a certain area of her body, Rachel centric, Rachel is not to be trifled with, Rachel will fuck you up, Rachel will put you in your place, Secret Marriage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2020-06-26 04:31:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 52,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19760653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jack_Wilder/pseuds/Jack_Wilder
Summary: This work is made up of different stories; some of which are connected with each other and some that are entirely stand alone works.





	1. In The Deep Dark Hills Of Eastern Kentucky (Rachel/Tim)

**Author's Note:**

> I will inform you of those which are connected to each other; such as if the fic is a prequel, sequel or has some relation to a previous story.
> 
> As I write more fics for this, I will add the other fandoms that I borrow characters from.
> 
> Also, regarding some of the fics, Rachel's entire background will be different from the t.v. show.
> 
> This is a project concentrating on Rachel/Tim, Rachel/Jimmy, Rachel/Raylan and Rachel/Others (more than likely from other known fandoms, I like to mix things up :D ) relationships or just Rachel.
> 
> In addition, just so you know, ALL the relationships in this project are all INTERRACIAL. 
> 
> I have no idea how the ratings of this fic will change as I add chapters, so I will play it safe and label it as 'Mature' for now.
> 
> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!
> 
> For the first chapter:
> 
> Title taken from “You'll never leave Harlan alive” by Darrell Scott
> 
> Googled 'glock models', for the different guns Rachel has.
> 
> This first fic was supposed to alternate between Rachel's and Tim's pov's. But, somehow majority of it became Tim's.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel had no idea she had picked up the angel of death.

Rachel saw the white smoke billowing up into the air before she saw the car or even the person looking as if he wanted to murder the already dead car. She slowed to a stop beside him, the owner of the smoking car bending slightly to peer in the through the window, the hot afternoon son glinting off the rims of his aviator sunglasses.

"Good afternoon ma'am." A Texan drawl sounded from him.

"Hi, car trouble." She tilted her head back to the nondescript looking white Toyota Corolla. 

The man laughed, "I think it should have been retired some years ago, but the guy at the rental place said it was the cheapest one I could get at such short notice."

Rachel clicked her teeth, "well I hope you get back your security deposit." She looked at the car again and back to the guy who was now looking in the direction she had come from. To Rachel he looked to be military, which was confirmed when she saw the sniper rifle tattoo on the inside of his right wrist. He looked young, but he had to have left some time ago, as his hair was no longer a buzz cut, but grown out enough for Rachel to wonder what it would feel like should she run her fingers through it.

"I called AAA, but they said it would take _three hours_ for them to get out here." His voice snapped Rachel back the moment at hand and out of her musings. "And my worthless phone," he held up his cell-phone, "died. Not to mention it's hotter than Satan's ass crack out here."

"That it is." Rachel agreed, having removed her jacket, so that she didn't die of a heatstroke before reaching back to the air-conditioned office, the a.c in the car not doing much to keep her cool. Without thinking, Rachel opened her mouth, "where are you headed? I can give you a ride."

The man seemed shocked by her offer, evident in the way his eyebrows rose slightly above the rim of his aviators. He looked hesitant to accept, as he glanced down the road again in both directions, at the still smoking car and then at his phone before coming to a decision.

"First motel we come across; you can drop me at."

Rachel smiled warmly, "deal."

He opened the back door of the car, grabbing a huge, dark green duffel bag and Rachel unlocked the backdoor of her car, allowing him to rest the bag on the backseat. Before climbing in the passenger seat beside her. 

"Buckle up." Rachel said as they drove off. "AAA knows who to contact regarding your vehicle."

"Yeah." Her travelling companion replied, sinking back in the seat and allowing the relatively cool air to wash over him. "You're rather bold, giving some strange white guy a ride."

Looking at him from the corner of her eye Rachel smirked. "I'm sure if you tried something, I could take you."

"Oh, yeah?" She detected interest in his voice and words.

Removing one hand from the steering wheel, she held it out to the man. "Deputy U.S. Marshal Rachel Brooks."

The man took her hand, his much larger one engulfing hers and she could feel calluses on certain areas of his hand indicating that he has handle a gun many times over. 

"Former U.S Army Ranger sniper, Staff Sergeant Tim Gutterson." He introduced himself. "Pleasure to meet you Marshal Brooks." He released her hand.

"Pleasure to meet you as well." Rachel kept her eyes on the road. "So, what brings you here?"

"Work."

* * *

**Tim's POV**

Tim was three seconds away from putting some bullets in the piece of shit rental car he got when another car, the only one he had seen since his broke down about an hour ago, pulled up to a stop beside him. When the window rolled down and he saw who was inside, well, Tim was grateful for all the training he went through to turn him into the poker-faced sniper who killed many people in the name of his country.

He had to supress the sudden hysterical laughter that almost escaped him as he met the person who belonged to the pixel image that stared out at him from his laptop screen with a **KILL ORDER** stamped across it. 

It was shit luck when both the car and his phone had died, leaving him stuck in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, with the heat of hell beating down on his head. Tim may have grown up in the Texan heat and spent time in the desert during his six tours as a sniper for the Rangers, but that didn't mean he had to like it. 

However, Tim didn't know if his luck was finally turning around of if fate had decided to fuck with him some more when his target not only drove up to him, but also offered him a drive which he accepted. Tim knew this was dangerous, getting so close to his mark, but he figured why not kill two birds with one stone. Get a drive into town, while also learning information about Rachel that he could not get from the thumb drive, currently buried at the bottom of his duffel bag.

His mark introduced herself with a smile that could rival any spring morning, and Tim wanted to pistol whip himself from the poetry he was spouting about her in his head. In turn, Tim introduced himself. As they drove, Rachel asked what he was in town for and Tim was not lying when he said work. He just did not specify _what_ kind of work and Rachel didn't ask any more questions, something Tim torn about.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, Rachel handling the car as if it were an extension of her body, the soft sounds of 90's R&B filtering through the car speakers.

"How long have you been a Marshal?" Tim decided to break the quiet. He knew damn well how long she had been one, but he was her to continue talking. 

Rachel overtook a vehicle in front of them, waiting until she was back in her lane before answering, "nine years, soon to be ten." She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, to see that he was looking at her. "How long were you in the Rangers?"

Tim, while he did not hate his time in the army, was never one to bring it up or talk about it. But sacrifices had to be made, if he was to make this kill. "Seven years. Six tours, with my first six months spent as a medic before my superiors caught on that I would make a fantastic sniper."

He had no idea why he volunteered that much information. Just the number of years would have sufficed, but his common-sense was decreasing rapidly the longer he spent in the company of one Rachel Brooks. Tim still wanted to beat himself over the head for giving her his real fucking name; a rookie move that would more than likely cost him in the future.

She had his name, the number of years he spent in the Rangers, that was more than enough to run a background check on him and see that the time between leaving the army to present day was suspiciously blank. He had no social media account, two email addresses: one for the deep dark net and the other for his utilities, no family, and numerous bank accounts (some hidden for a rainy day) with enough money to raise a few eyebrows.

Focused on silently berating himself, Tim was jolted out of his own little world when Rachel called out him. From the sound of her voice, that was not the first call to get his attention.

"Sorry," he eased up his aviators a little and dragged a hand down his face, careful not to reveal much. "What did you say?"

"I asked what you do now?" Rachel trailed off, wanting to know what occupied his time now that he was not murdering people on his government's orders. 

"I hunt down deadbeat husbands and fathers who try to skip out on alimony and child support payments and drag them back for court." The lie sailed smoothly from his tongue. Pretty proud of himself for that, Tim allowed a small smirk to appear, it grew into a smile when Rachel laughed at that. Shit. Tim thought, he had a slight problem.

"Sounds interesting; I am sure you have a few stories to tell."

Tim nodded his head as if thinking about it. "I do." He opened his mouth to speak when Rachel beat him to it. 

"And here we are." 

Tim looked out the car window as Rachel slowed the car, turning into the parking lot of a motel. To Tim, the motel did not look as if it was a tetanus shot waiting to happen, which was a good thing.

Rachel looked from the red brick building before them, boasting about free Wi-Fi and a swimming pool before turning to look at Tim. "This ok?"

"Yeah, um yeah." He removed his seatbelt and got out of the car, grabbing his duffel bag from the backseat. "Thanks again for the ride." He stuck his head through the window, his knees almost buckling from the blinding smile Rachel gave him.

"Not a problem. Take care of yourself."

"You too ma'am."

Rachel rolled her eyes at the term, "and I hope you get your guy."

"Oh, I will." He watched as she reversed and drove off. Honking twice to which Tim raised his hand in good-bye. He stood there, watching as Rachel's car taillights disappeared in the distance. "Shit." A small laugh of self-disgust left him. "Fucking shit." He had a _huge_ problem. 

Slamming the door to the room he had gotten for the night, after putting up the _Do Not Disturb_ sign, Tim sat heavily on his bed, removing his aviators and cap as he booted up his laptop. His mind had on replay, the sound of Rachel's laugh and he could not get the subtle scent of her perfume out of his nose. This had never happened before. He had never met a target before the kill. It was always observed for a minimum of two weeks; longer if they broke routine, memorize their daily routine, line up his rifle, take the shot, then get the hell out of dodge.

Tim's jaw so clenched so hard, he had the passing thought that it would stay like that for the rest of his life. His laptop booted and the thumb drive plugged in, he brought up all the information on Rachel, her picture mocking him with those dark brown doe eyes, round cute face, cheeks made for caressing and lips for kissing. He knew when he had first seen the job offer and her picture, once he had clicked on the link that he should have turned it down. However, curiosity as to why someone had two-million-dollar bounty on her made him snatch it up before anyone else could. Now that curiosity was biting him hard in his lily-white ass.

Unassuming as she looked, Rachel Brooks has managed to nab two of the most wanted fugitives in the U.S and travelled to Mexico with her partner to tow, to drag back another for trial. That last one is what had pissed off some folks who now wanted her dead; considering she had hit the Mexican drug cartel in a rough way.

He stared at Rachel's picture for a few more minutes before closing down everything, hungry gnawing at his stomach, Tim donned his shades and cap, leaving the room in search of the closest diner or convenience store.

* * *

Two days in and Tim was ready to throw himself from the window of his third-floor motel room. He had chosen that particular motel due to its location directly across the street from one Deputy U.S. Marshal Rachel Brook's apartment complex. He hadn't even bothered spending the night at the previous motel, checking out in the middle of the night and walking the entire way to his current location.

Tim had his M24 set up on a little table right by the front windows of his room, the curtains drawn tightly, allowing only a thin line of light to enter the room, as he watched Rachel get ready for work. Rachel's apartment was situated on the third floor as well, which is probably why she moved freely about in various states of dress, which sometimes left Tim with a big problem in his pants. Hence, his enthusiasm to take a swan dive out his window.

On day number two, once Tim was sure Rachel had left her apartment for the day, he legged it across the road. Walking up the three flights of stairs instead of using the elevator, Tim was standing in front of apartment 307 within four minutes, and then inside thanks to his natural lock picking skills. He took a moment to survey the room, which was airy and filled with natural light thanks to the bay window in the living room, the curtains wide open, giving Tim an unobstructed view of his own motel room window, with the curtains drawn. He knew that he would be able to take her out with one clean shot, _if the kill was done in her living room_ ; that was the only slight drawback he faced, but not the only one.

The walls were according to Tim's eyes, a short of off-white shade, with pictures hanging on them. The couch, love seat and armchair were all the same shade of blue and looked fucking comfortable, which was proven to be true when Tim sat in the armchair. 

There was a flat screen t.v. mounted on the wall, providing anyone sitting with a great view. Along with a collection of Marvel movies, sitting on the small t.v. stand below it and Tim smiled. He was a Marvel and Star Wars fan himself and while his mark did not look like one, what she had in her possession said otherwise. Ignoring the kitchen, Tim made his way to the bedroom, knowing that the other room was the bathroom. Careful not to disturb anything, he walked in and stood before the carefully made queen sized bed. 

He cast his eyes about the room and came to the conclusion that Rachel's favourite colour was blue, from the comforter covering her bed, to the curtains hanging by the window, that were surprisingly drawn. There were photos on the bedside tables on either side of the bed. One he could see, was a picture of her with whom he knew was her mother and nephew. Tim felt something flare up inside him that he refused to acknowledge as jealousy when he looked at the other photo. Slowly, he walked around the bed to pick up the picture frame. Staring at him were the smiling faces of Rachel and the man who Tim recognised from the information on the thumb drive, as her sometimes partner Raylan Givens.

The photo showed that they were in a bar, Rachel was wrapped in the arms of her partner and both were smiling at the camera, a white cowboy hat on her head. Tim put the frame back where he found it. Moving on with a purpose, Tim searched all the likely places that he would hide weapons and was not disappointed to find a _Glock 30SF_ under her pillow, a _Glock 18_ in her bedside drawer. Out in the kitchen he found a _Glock 27_ in the dishtowels drawer, a _Glock 21_ in the top cupboard in a bowl and finally a _Glock 42_ attached to the underside of the centre table in the living room area.

Tim's eyebrows had progressively climbed his forehead with each find. Rachel was packing some serious fire power and he had to wonder if she had any idea that some really bad people were gunning for her. Satisfied with his search, he left the apartment the same way he found it, undisturbed.

* * *

By the third day of watching her, Tim had learned Rachel's routine. She woke at 5:00 a.m. in the mornings and went running for an hour. Returning to her apartment, Rachel would shower, something that took fifteen minutes and then, the best and worst part of Tim's early mornings, she would stand at her kitchen counter in her underwear and eat her breakfast. 

Tim figured that he now owned the title of 'pervert' as he watched with rapt attention how well Rachel looked clothed in little. Her skin was smooth, and he wanted to run his tongue and lips down the length of her body, tasting all she had to offer. He drank her in like a thirsty man in the desert. Her soft looking breasts made him realise how long he had not been with a woman, her stomach was flat and toned, her waist tapered, and Tim wanted nothing more than to hold tight to the swell of her hips as he grind against her. 

Once breakfast was done and Rachel was in her no-nonsense tailored suits, gun and badge on her hip, she was out the door and Tim was four cars behind her, in a new white Nissan, nothing eye catching. He trailed her to the courthouse where her office was located. He sat in the car for three hours before he caught sight of Rachel and her partner Raylan Givens leaving. They got into a black town car and Tim followed them until the traffic began to ease up. He turned around for that day, knowing that wherever they were going he could not follow without being found out.

That night Tim found out where they had gone, thanks to the 7'o clock news. Someone in the backwoods had taken a shaky video of a shootout. Some fugitive hiding out for two weeks at an abandoned farm, took shots at the U.S. Marshals with a high-powered assault rifle. He could not see much in the video, but what he heard did not sound good; it brought him back to his days of ducking fire as a Ranger.

A video clip was shown of a news reporter interviewing the Chief Deputy U.S. Marshal, Art Mullen and in the background, Tim could see Rachel sitting in the back of an ambulance receiving medical care from a paramedic for graze on her forehead which was more than likely caused by a bullet. Tim immediately dropped the burger he was eating and went back to his lookout point; Rachel's apartment was dark for approximately three seconds after he started his watch again. White florescent lights flooded the apartment, and a tired looking Rachel came into view.

Tim slowly looked her up and down, a square bandage taped to her forehead, and she was walking stiffly. She disappeared out of view for almost half an hour, and once she reappeared Tim sucked in a harsh breath, he saw why she was walking so stiffly. The entire right side of Rachel's ribcage was bruised. In a pair of shorts and a loose-fitting t-shirt, he watched as Rachel got a bag of frozen peas from her freezer and gritting her teeth against the cold, she placed it on her injury. He kept watching her as she laid on the couch and most likely felt asleep. Deciding that she was not going anywhere for the rest of the night or for the weekend, Tim turned in as well. 

* * *

A job that should have taken at least two weeks, turned into three weeks and counting, of Tim watching Rachel through his scope, following her to various places and learning more about her. He knew that she loved cheeseburgers but hated pickles as he watched her pick them out and drop them in her partner's plate. She didn't care much for candy or chocolate, but had a sweet tooth for pie, apple pie to be exact with a heavy serving of whipped cream. 

Even though she was a by the book Marshal, Rachel drove like a bat out of hell, even if it was just for a grocery run and Tim found that amusing as he kept up with her. Mondays to Thursdays she would wear her tailored suits, but on Fridays, she would wear jeans to work, something Tim highly approved of from the way the denim hugged her curves. He definitely would not mind getting between her and her Calvin’s.

He learnt that she was a coffee addict, drinking it morning, noon and night. He wondered how the hell she slept and has seen her coffee deprived. It was not pretty. 

All in all, Tim knew he was in trouble when he first saw her picture and meeting her in person and then following her only confirmed what he knew from the start; he would not be able to kill her.

He had just exited a used bookstore one Friday, in the early afternoon having purchased four books. Two having dragons, one about wizards and the other about a seven-year-old girl being able to communicate with the dead. Heading down the block to his car, Tim heard a voice he heard in his dreams, call out.

"Staff Sergeant Gutterson."

Tim turned at the call of his name, a genuine smile making its way across his face.

Rachel was approaching him, all 5'2" of curves and over all badassery and seeing that it was a Friday, Tim allowed his eyes hidden behind his aviator sunglasses to trail the length of her body. Clad in form fitting black jeans, a white crew neck shirt, brown jacket and sensible boots Rachel made quite the picture and he couldn't help but wonder what her ass would feel like in his hands. 

"Marshal Brooks." He grinned down at her as she came to a stop leaving enough space to be considered mildly appropriate between them. "And how are you doing this fine afternoon?" He allowed his Texan drawl to be even more pronounced.

"I am well. Surprised to see that you're still here." She gestured at him with the hand holding her coffee cup. "Not that I am complaining. Just thought you would have gotten your guy by now."

Tim tilted his head, "well, he is proving to be even more elusive than I first thought."

"Ah," Rachel said in understanding. "Well, if you need any help you know where to find me." The smile she gave him was anything but professional.

She was flirting.

She was flirting with Tim. The man who accepted the contract for killing her and she was flirting with him. Tim felt like shit, but he flirted back. His mind already made up about what he was going to do with her.

"What are you drinking?"

Rachel grinned, and help up her cup "cappuccino with four shots of espresso."

"So, you're drinking a heart attack in a cup." He deadpanned, eyeing the cup and then her. 

"Call it what you want. I won this fair and square." She boasted.

"How'd you win a ‘heart attack waiting to happen’?"

"My partner started shit." She shrugged, sipped her coffee before continuing. "And by 'started shit', I mean he and his best friend/nemesis started a fist fight in the office. He got tackled through a glass partition. Not surprised that it happened, just that it took so long."

"And you what? Had a betting pool going in the office for when this fight would happen?"

"Hmm-hmm." Rachel nodded, downing the rest of her drink before spying the shopping bag he had. "Whatcha' got there?"

Tim looked down to where she was pointing, having forgotten about the weight of the bag in his hand. "Books. I like to read." He had no idea why he tagged on that last bit, but it was out there and nothing harmful.

"Same here."

He already knew that, recalling the numerous books he had seen on the bookshelf in her apartment. All the books looked as if they had been read more than once. He had seen some titles that he had read himself.

A sudden ringing interrupted whatever Rachel was about to say. She retrieved her phone from her pocket. "Excuse me." Tim nodded, allowing her to take a few steps away and his eyes trailed after her. The call did not last for even a minute before Rachel was back in front of him.

"That was work." She said by way of explanation.

As much as Tim knew it was not a good idea to continue interacting with her like this, he was bummed that she had to leave. "Lemme guess, you have to go."

She nodded, "but," she reached into her jacket and extracted a business card, which Tim accepted when it was offered to him. "My cell number is on that and there is a great bookstore/coffee shop not far here. If you ever want to meet up while you're still in town."

Tim looked from the card to her beautiful face. "You can drink your heart attack inducing coffee and I can read. Sounds like a date." Jesus Christ, he sounded like a teenager scoring his first date. 

"I will be expecting a call from you." She turned to leave. "And I hope to see your eyes when we do meet up." Was her parting shot. 

Amused, Tim removed his shades and called out to her. "Marshal!" His amusement grew when Rachel turned and saw his face fully for the first time. 

His ego grew when she complimented. "Such pretty eyes, shame to cover them all the time." With that she walked down the block, turned the corner and was out of sight, but not out of Tim's mind.

Shit. He was in deep shit.

He had some cleaning up to do; to warn others not to come after Rachel Brooks. And if the FBI received an anonymous tip and some incredible incriminating evidence about a Mexican drug cartel who wanted a Deputy U.S. Marshal dead, well nothing could be traced back to Tim as he watched Rachel through his scope as he spoke with her on the phone that night, watching as she laughed.

Yeah, Tim was in deep shit.


	2. Don't Ask, Don't Tell (Rachel/Jimmy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deputy U.S. Marshal Rachel Brooks was acquainted with criminal Jimmy Tolan long before she became a Marshal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

"Do not bleed on my floor Jimmy." Rachel's tone allowed no room for any argument and Jimmy made sure none of the blood running down his arm and face touched her hardwood floor.

He slid down the wall in the middle of the hallway, his legs splayed before him. "I didn't know...where else to go." Jimmy could hear Rachel rummaging in the bathroom, before she reappeared with the first aid kit. 

Rachel stood above him, her eyes taking stock of his injuries before kneeling down beside him. "And you chose to come here?" She pulled on a pair of gloves before turning his head to get a better look at the head wound, he was sporting. "What the hell happened?"

Jimmy's eyes were trying to focus on whatever he was seeing, only responding when Rachel lightly tapped him on his cheek, telling him to stay with her and keep talking. 

"I needed somewhere safe."

"And you chose a Marshal's house?"

"As I said, I needed somewhere safe." Jimmy coughed and then groaned as he agitated his other injuries. 

That clued Rachel in on the fact that her current unwanted charge had other problems aside from what she was seeing. "Where else are you hurt?"

Jimmy began tugging up his shirt in response, hissing in pain. Rachel helped only to curse.

"Jimmy, tell me what the fuck happened right this minute, before I break another of your ribs." She felt gently along his ribcage, not liking what she felt. His alabaster skin was mottled with dark purple bruised, countless blood vessels having been ruptured. There was one bruise in particular, reaching from his right shoulder across his chest to his left hip bone, which indicated he was wearing a seat belt when his mishap occurred. 

"Some asshole ran me off the road." He coughed, and Rachel was no doctor, but she was sure his lungs were filing with blood. 

"Fuck." She got up and ran into the kitchen grabbing her cell phone before returning to Jimmy. She dialled 911. "This is Deputy U.S. Marshal Rachel Brooks; I have a 20-year-old male in my home suffering from multiple injuries sustained in a car accident. 

"What...what are you doin' Rachel?" Jimmy's words were beginning to slur. He tried to pull at the hand holding the phone to her ear, but all he could do was brush her sleeve with his bloodied fingers, before his hand felt useless at his side.

She ignored him, speaking to the 911 dispatcher. "From what I can tell, he has a head injury, numerous broken ribs, his left arm is dislocated, and the right has a gash that is steadily leaking blood. I need an ambulance." 

The dispatcher informed Rachel that an ambulance would be there in three minutes and she ended the call, turning her attention back to Jimmy who was looking at her, his blue eyes watery. 

"You shouldn't a' done tha'."

Rachel rolled her eyes, "and just allow you to bleed out on my floor." She dabbed at his head with a piece of gauze. "Rule still stands, don't bleed on my floor."

"They're going to find out."

She knew exactly who he meant by ‘they’. ‘ _They’_ being Art, Tim, Raylan and more than likely the rest of the Lexington Marshal office and Jimmy's current employer, Boyd Crowder. Her lips were pressed in a flat thin line. 

"Let them. It was only a matter of time, before this news made the town's gossip mill."

Rachel heard sirens in the distance.

Jimmy's smile was bloody, but it did not subtract from how young and beautiful he looked, taking Rachel back to the days when he would run crying to her because he had skinned his knee _again._

 _Guess he still does_ , she thought. 

The sirens were closer.

"Dad's gonna flip his shit." Jimmy choked out, blood flying from his mouth to land on his shirt and jeans. Rachel wiped off the blood that was on his chin. 

"Only if he finds out." Rachel said, a conspiratorial smile on her face. 

"Don't tell dad." Jimmy said, as he lost consciousness.

"Don't tell dad." Rachel echoed, getting up to let the paramedics in.

****


	3. FUBAR (Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel is injured on the job. Tim is tasked with taking care of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Male friend taking care of his female friend/co-worker.
> 
> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

Everything was going according to plan. They had gotten their two fugitives, along with the bonus of busting a marijuana growing farm. Tim stood by his SUV, watching as all the criminals were rounded up and put into the local PD cars. Aside from the cursing and occasional racial slur hurled at Rachel or one of the other law enforcement officials who were a shade darker than their white counterpart, every was ok so far.

However, no one saw the straggler hiding in a blind spot by the barn. No one saw the knife he was brandishing until Rachel yelled in pain, red blossoming rapidly across her white t-shirt. Instinctively, Tim had turned, gun drawn and the man who was about to stab Rachel again laid dead at her feet, a neat bullet hole between his eyes.

There was a flurry of activity, Tim appearing by Rachel's side immediately as she leaned heavily against the car, she had just pushed one of their fugitives into. She had one hand pressed to her waist on the left and the other against her right breast where blood was rapidly escaping.

"Shit!" Tim cursed. "Medic!" He yelled. He pressed down against the wound on her waist, allowing Rachel both hands to try and staunch the blood flowing from her breast.

It was no use as she was slowly losing consciousness, sliding down the side of the car along with Tim who eased her fall, yelling for the medics to hurry their asses up. 

Five hours later found Rachel out of surgery, slowly waking up from the anaesthesia. The hallway leading to her hospital room was crowded with her fellow Marshals, waiting for her to wake. Tim and Art were in the room, the latter sitting in a chair by her bedside, as Tim leaned against the wall by the window, occasionally glancing out at the world outside.

Once she was awake and fully coherent, Rachel was filled in on what went down, remembering majority of what had happened before she lost consciousness. 

"Can't believe the fucker managed to slash my breast." Rachel complained, as pain radiated in two specific areas of her body. She had been laying on her back, unable to lie on her sides thanks to having a knife wound on either side of her body. "I like my breasts." She grumbled, much to the embarrassment of Art and amusement of Tim, both of whom she ignored, bemoaning the damage done. 

"He also stabbed you in your waist." Tim pointed out.

"And you put a bullet between his eyes." Rachel smiled at him; a bit loopy thanks to the drugs still in her system. "Thanks for that by the way."

"Anytime." Tim promised.

Rachel spent one night in the hospital, before the complaining began the next day. "When can I leave? I want to leave. I hate hospitals. They make me feel dirty."

Tim and Art shared a look that said _hope-she-never-end-up-in-one-again-while-with-them._

"You sound like the female version of Raylan." Art teased, laughing outright at Rachel's affronted look.

"At least she hasn't tried sneaking out as yet." Tim commented from his post, this time on the couch in the corner. When the rest of the Marshals had cleared out the previous night, Tim opted to stay behind, stating that Art should go home since he was getting on in years and needed his sleep. And that if he could sleep on the side of a mountain during a war, he could spend the night on a lumpy hospital couch should anything happen to Rachel. He had been there when she woke, already wide awake and gazing through the window. She had teased him, asking if he kept watch the entire night, shrugging, he let the question slide, instead offering to assist her to the bathroom.

At the mention of Raylan, Rachel had to ask, "has anyone said anything to him."

Tim pointed at Art. 

Art sighed and scratched the five o'clock shadow he had going. "Told him what happened. Didn't want him hearing it from someone else."

"And lemme guess," Rachel smiled, her head lolling on her pillow as she tilted her head to look at him. "He was ready to fly back here and avenge me."

Art nodded, while Tim gave a single thumbs-up behind him, still lying on the couch.

"He sends his condolences for your breast." Art turned a bright shade of red and Rachel laughed, only remembering that was a bad idea when her wounds flared with pain. 

"So, when I can I get out of here?" She asked again, only for her eyes to snap to Tim as he was sitting up in the blink of an eye, his cornflower-blue eyes on the door of her hospital room. She was about to ask what was wrong when it opened, and a kind faced middle aged female doctor walked in. 

"Good morning, I am Dr. Munroe" she greeted cheerfully, "and how is my patient doing today?"

"Pissy." Tim said.

"Tim, I would flip you off, but it would take too much energy." Rachel said already sounding out of breath, just from speaking. "I wanna go home doc. Today."

Dr. Munroe smiled not unkindly as she approached the bed. "You suffered two severe injuries Marshal Brooks. Between both of them, you have thirty-five stitches."

"I _know._ I can _feel_ them." Rachel had been in pain since the anaesthesia wore off. She was hooked up to a morphine drip but did not like how drugs made her feel. She'd rather tough it out than be loopy.

"Then you know it is best for you to remain here for a few more days."

Rachel was doubtful. "How long is 'a few more days'?'"

"The rest of the week." Dr. Munroe responded with such cheer that Rachel was tempted to smack her. 

"No." Her voice was firm. "I want out. _Today_."

"Rachel," Art interjected, "now is not the time to be stubborn."

"Yeah, don't pull a 'Raylan' on us." Tim was looking for a bedpan to be flung in his direction.

Everyone ignored him as Art continued speaking.

"You lost a lot of blood. Just listen to your doctor and stay here where you can be cared for properly."

"I can take care of myself just fine at home." She snapped at her boss. The room was silent. The frustration coming from Rachel was tangible.

"Ok," Dr. Munroe, lowered the railing on the right side of the bed. "See if you can sit up, get out of bed and walk to your friend over there." She pointed at Tim who raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

"Are you sure that's a good idea doc?" Art asked, looking from Rachel to the short but more than likely tiring distance, for someone with injuries like hers.

"If Marshal Brooks can do all that without collapsing or tearing her stitches, I will discharge her immediately. If not, you," she looked sternly at Rachel, "will remain here for the rest of the week without any complaints." Her smile was not one to argue with.

Rachel did not get to where she was by laying down and showing her belly. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and gently pushed herself to an upright position. The nausea from moving hit her like a freight train and she had to take a minute for it to subside. Once the feeling had passed, she slowly swung her legs over the edge of the bed, letting them swing.

"Should this be timed?" Tim's voice broke the tense silence. "I feel as though it should be timed."

"Tim," Rachel’s voice the wrong side of tight, "just sit there and look pretty." He snickered but did as ordered.

Slowly Rachel inched forward, lowering her bare feet to the tiled floor, hissing from how cold it was. Using the bed to steady herself, Rachel straightened up and felt the movement tug at her stitches. But not one to give up, she slowly made her way down the length of the bed, using it as support. 

Aware of three pairs of eyes on her, Rachel powered on as well as she could. The problem was, once she arrived at the end of the bed, there was nothing there to use as support between the bed and Tim, his sniper eyes focused solely on her. Steeling herself, Rachel slowly released her grip on the bed, satisfied that she was not going to tilt over, she began shuffling over to Tim; which after the first step seemed easier said and thought than done in her current state.

With sweat beading on her forehead, Rachel pushed the pain to the back of her mind. Pushed how much she wanted to pass out right there in the middle of her hospital room and concentrated on how smaller the distance between her and Tim was getting with each step she took. 

Tim stood up as she got closer but did not move towards her; instead he stayed stock-still and once she was close enough to him, Rachel reached out her hands and grasped his arms, her fingers wrapping themselves in the material of his Marshal's windbreaker. He stood there, accepting all of Rachel's weight as she leaned against him, having won the challenge, he saw her smug smile, giving a slight smirk of his own.

"So, doc," her voice was a bit shaky as she turned, Tim acting as her support pillar, "about that discharge."

Both Dr. Munroe and Art wore not amused expressions, but a deal was a deal. Dr. Munroe left the room and returned in under five minutes which was enough time for Tim to literally pick up Rachel, much to her shock and Art's amusement and put her back in bed.

"I will discharge you Marshal, but there are a few conditions."

Rachel was over the hospital stay and would agree to anything. "Which are?"

"I will be giving you six weeks off from work to heal properly."

Except that. "What?! Doc, I have to work!" She protested.

"Six weeks off." Dr. Munroe spoke over her. “No lifting anything heavier than a television remote. No bending over or stretching for anything. Your dressing is to be cleaned and changed three times a day."

Rachel nodded along, her mind still stuck on being out from work for six weeks, that she almost did not hear what the doctor said next.

"And you will need someone to help you out at home. You do have someone? If not, then you will have to remain here, for the time being."

"I have someone." Rachel lied.

"Who?" Art asked, genuinely curious. "You said that your mom is out of state taking care of a friend."

Rachel wished her boss to the deepest pit of hell right then and there.

"And I personally would not trust Raylan with my goldfish even if he was here." Tim so helpfully contributed to the conversation.

"Marshal Brooks, do you have someone who can help you out for at least three weeks?"

Rachel racked her brain, not coming up with anyone. About ready throw in the towel, her mind recalled what Tim just said, ** _'And I personally would not trust Raylan with my goldfish even if he was here'_**. She smiled of a person with a secret, her eyes looking straight at Tim.

"What?" The unshakable sniper queried.

"Tim will be taking care of me."

"What?"

"When did I volunteer to do that?"

"Great!"

Art, Tim and Dr. Munroe said respectively. 

Discharged papers signed, Dr. Munroe left after telling Tim twice all that Rachel was not allowed to do, providing him with antibiotic cream and clean bandages for her injuries as well as strict instructions for when and how her wounds were to be cleaned to prevent infection. In addition, to the medication she would have to take. As well, as when it was ok for her to begin light exercises of taking a few steps around her room to prevent deterioration of her leg muscles. And that if she was in any pain, to return to the hospital. 

Tim stood there and listened to it all as Rachel sat on her bed. Art had left to pull Tim's SUV around. When the doctor had vacated the room, he slowly turned to look at his co-worker, who was now dressed in a pair of hospital scrubs thanks to a nice motherly nurse who had even slipped her a lollipop, much to his amusement. 

"Seriously, when did I say anything about playing your slave?"

"You didn't." Rachel pocketed the lollipop and turned to look at him. Fatigue and pain seen in her body language, but nothing showed on her face. "Think of it as you are paying up for our latest bet."

Tim thought for a moment, "What? You mean Raylan not starting shit for once in his life? He's not _here_ to start anything."

"Exactly," Rachel grinned. "He's not here. You gave him one day, while I gave him two days. He hasn't been here for over a week, thanks to the immediate mandatory leave Art sent him on. Hence, he has not started any shit."

"Not that we know of."

" _Not here."_ Rachel pointed out. "I win, so I am claiming this as payment from you."

Tim stared at her for a minute. "I am never playing cards with you."

* * *

The drive to Rachel's apartment was without any excitement, with them stopping by the office to drop off Art. Tim drove, with Rachel sitting in the backseat, dozing quietly. He parked in the space reserved for Rachel's visitor, coming around the back to assist his charge. 

"Glad I chose an apartment with an elevator." Rachel said, leaning against Tim, who because of where his co-worker's injuries were located, had a warm time wrapping his arm around her uninjured waist, while trying not to brush against the left side that only two days ago sported a gaping hole.

The elevator came to a stop on the third floor and they shuffled out and down the hall at a slow pace to apartment 307. 

"I could have just picked you up and carried you." Tim said, as he shut the door behind them, Rachel already making her way to her bedroom, holding on the wall for support.

Rachel had to take a deep breath before responding. "You could have managed me, your go-bag and the bag with my bloody clothes all at the same time?" 

"I am a lot stronger that I look, and I carried a lot more weight when I was in the Rangers." He had dropped the bags by the counter in her open plan living room/kitchen and was now behind her, not touching, but making sure he was there should anything happen. "And you're not heavy."

They entered her bedroom, and Tim took the time to look around as Rachel shuffled over to the side of bed and sat down gingerly so as not to aggravate her injuries. Rachel's bedroom was painted in a dark shade of blue that Tim found oddly soothing. Her bedroom furniture could be described as minimalist, but also comfortable if Rachel's sigh as she sank down in her mattress was anything to go by.

Tim stood there, watching as Rachel seemingly started dozing again until she spoke. 

"Quit staring at me like that."

He grinned. "Can't help it. I've never seen you as anything but a tiny badass Marshal. It's something new seeing you like this."

Rachel cracked open a single eye, which had the same powerful glare as if she had opened both. "What? Injured and laid up in bed? Oh, and call me 'tiny' one more time and I will kick your teeth in." Tim suppressed his smile, knowing she was serious. She released a deep-rooted sigh, one Tim knew all too well himself, when the weight of the world got to be too much, and he put it down for a moment's rest.

"Thanks for the drive." Her voice was getting looser with sleep. "The couch is a pull out, if you wanna get some rest. I can see the bags under your eyes."

"Well, don't you know that is just rude, Marshal Brooks. Mentioning a guy's looks can hurt his feelings."

Rachel's smile was barely there. "Nah, no matter how little sleep you get, you will always look good to me." 

Tim was glad that Rachel's eyes were closed, so that she could not see the surprised look that crossed his face for a mere second. Tim knew that he looked good; heard the tittering of all the females, both young and older when he first started at the Lexington field office, still do sometimes. And he knew that he could turn the heads of a few men. But Rachel had never been anything but professional towards him, so hearing those words come from her mouth, did something to his ego.

Walking back to where he had dropped the bags, he retrieved Rachel's medication and laid them on out the bar counter. He took her soiled clothes and the bandages and ointment for her injuries to the bathroom, where he placed them on the face-basin. Disposing of her ruined shirt, tossing her jeans on top of the clothes basket with a mental note to soak it later to get the blood out. Her badge and gun were placed on her bedside table.

Upon returning to the living room, Tim stripped off his windbreaker, and deposited his own gun and badge on the centre table in front of the couch for easy reach. He toed off his boots and was about to lay down when he caught sight of himself in the hanging mirror, located on the wall opposite to him. He did look tired and, and on his grey henley, were areas stained with Rachel's blood. 

He wanted a shower; to be clean, but since Rachel was home, safe and sound, his body was screaming for some proper sleep. He had kept watched while Rachel was in the hospital, only dozing when Art was there, but it was not enough. Coming to a decision, Tim stripped off his shirt and threw it in the direction of his go-bag, before plopping down on the most amazingly soft couch he had ever had the pleasure of being acquainted with.

Five hours later he was awoken by the ringing of his phone and was immediately off the couch and in Rachel's room.

"What is it?" The bedroom was slowly getting dark as dusk set in, but he could still see the slight grimace on Rachel's face from where she sat with pillows piled behind her, propping her up in bed.

"What time is it?" Her voice still laden with sleep.

Tim checked his watch. "6:45 p.m."

"I feel gross." Was all Rachel said, then, "why are you shirtless?"

"Well, thanks to your injuries, both a shower and bath are out, so you will have to be dry cleaned. And it was covered in your blood, so I took it off."

The look Rachel gave him was missed as her room got darker. "What was that about 'dry cleaned'?" She completely ignored the what he said about her blood being on his shirt. That is something she did not want to think about.

Tim sighed, "I am going to set up a basin of warm water in the bathroom for you, so that you can get clean, without soaking your wounds."

"I want a shower." Rachel's voice was petulant, and Tim smiled.

"Sorry, but this will have to do for now." He really felt for her. Having spent time in the desert, he knew what it felt like wanting a proper shower or bath and not being able to have it. "Let me go get set up and I will come get you."

"Ok."

It took Tim all of five minutes to get the items ready in the bathroom. Rachel again used the wall as support and slowly shuffled to the bathroom, Tim right behind her. He settled her on the wide edge of the bathtub and that is when they ran into a problem.

Rachel looked from him to the bathroom door and back to him. 

"What?" He asked. There was a moment of silence as Tim himself seemed to work out what exactly the problem was. " _Oh_." In the light of the bathroom, Rachel could see the light pink spots that appeared on her sniper's cheeks. 

"Yeah, _oh_." She looked away from those blue eyes. "I can take it from here." Her fingers fiddled with the drawstring on the waist of her scrub pants, loosening them. "You're still in here Tim." Rachel kept her eyes firmly on the small task at hand.

"I was tasked with helping you while you heal. That also means, helping you clean." He pointed out as if he was saying that it was a sunny day.

Rachel finally held up her head, her expression not amused at all. "Tim."

"Rachel."

"Thank you, but I do not need any help with _this_."

Tim smirked, "nothing I have not seen before. I ain't no blushing virgin."

"Wipe that smirk off your face right this minute Gutterson." Rachel growled, but Tim did as told. "I do not care how many women's tits you have seen before." She wanted to slap him; she could see the smirk wanting to make a reappearance. "But you sure as hell haven't seen mine, and you never will. So, out."

Tim acquiesce to her command and left the bathroom, closing the door behind him, he leaned against it, counting. 

"Tim." 

He heard the muffled voice call. "Yes?" Tim was not hiding the glee in his voice. 

There was the sound of an angry huff. "I need your help."

The door flew open as he re-entered. "Sounds like it hurt a lot for you to admit that." He was in front of her, pushing the sleeves of his shirt even further, above his elbows. Rachel looked miserable, and so Tim stopped his teasing. "Ok, how do you want to do this? Remove everything at once or do you wish to keep your pants on as we do your top?"

"Just take everything off." Rachel said in a hurry and Tim nodded. 

"Ok, pants first." He kneeled before her on the cold tiles, his hands going for the waist of her pants and in a very clinical manner, and with some help from Rachel, Tim removed her pants slowly. His eyes did not linger too long on the generic white panties given to her by the hospital or the fact that her legs were soft and smooth as his fingers brushed against them.

With her pants off, Tim gave her a few minutes to brace herself for what was to come. "Shirt now." His voice low in the quiet of the bathroom. Something about the moment they were about to share, deserved reverence. And with how much Rachel was trusting Tim to take care of her while she was vulnerable, well Tim was going to fucking respect that.

Slowly he inched the shirt up Rachel's flat stomach, her belly button showing and then the bandage of the wound she sustained on her waist. His fingers brushed against her ribcage and he felt as well as saw her inhale deeply. He stopped, concerned.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No." she shook her head. "Just slightly ticklish."

Tim gave a slight laugh, "ok." He continued with his task. "Your doctor said that you are not allowed to stretch, so, we are going to have to get your arms out first and then get it from around your neck. 

Rachel nodded. "Left arm first."

Tim said nothing as he assisted Rachel in bending and removing her arm from the shirt. It still hung down over her chest, affording her a few more seconds of privacy. They got her right arm through the sleeve and it was just as naked as her other arm. 

"Taking off the shirt now." Tim announced and barely had any time to blink before Rachel had her arms up and crossed over her chest, covering her breasts, wincing a bit as she jostled her injured one. He got the shirt off and Rachel sat there on the bathtub edge, in her white cotton panties, arms doing their best to preserve her dignity.

"Rachel."

She didn't respond.

"The water's getting cold." Tim didn't say anything else, he wet the rag in the basin he had situated by his knees, lathered it with soap and began cleaning her. 

He started at her neck, coming down to her collar bones. Tim packed quite a punch in his hand; having once not only breaking a suspect’s nose, but also knocking out two of his front teeth with a single punch. But right now, he had something delicate handling and his hands were as gentle as they could be. He changed positions, shuffling along the floor on his knees to reach around her back, his hands rubbing soothing circles, hoping he could help make her not feel so uncomfortable. 

Having washed the parts of her upper body that he could, Tim moved so that he was once again kneeling directly in front of her. 

"I need to wash your arms now." He announced as if she was not aware, still she did not react. "Rachel, this is not easy for me either." Rachel merely raised an eyebrow and Tim scoffed. "Fuck this." He got to his feet, Rachel's eyes following him. He pulled the button and zipper on his jeans and had his pants off before Rachel could even utter a single word.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Levelling the playing field." He said by way of explanation, as he removed his socks, so that he stood before Rachel, clad only in his boxer briefs, dog tags and wristwatch. "I figure this would help you be a little more at ease."

Rachel's eyes kept going back to the intricately designed tattoo on his right pectoral. "It's hardly, levelled Gutterson. You are touching me."

"Ain't nothin' stoppin' you from touching me." Tim snapped. He was tired and dirty, not to mention hungry. He was roped into this caregiver role for his female co-worker who will more than likely one day be his boss. They were both uncomfortable with the current situation, Rachel more so than him, but he was trying to be as professional as he could, and she was not making it easy for him. That is why it took a few seconds for his brain to register what he said. "Shit, Rachel, I-"

"You need to attend another sexual harassment workshop." 

Tim huffed a laugh, "yeah, but before that let's get you clean. Arms please." He requested politely and gently.

Slowly Rachel relinquished her right arm to him, her left arm barely covering both her breasts. Tim kept his eyes on spot by her neck; never straying from that point. Tim allowed her time to use her soapy arm to take the place of her other arm, stretching it out for the same treatment. The fight began again soon after. 

Her breasts needed to be washed, and then the dressing redone. Tim was already prepared for her arguments. 

"You have two choices." He held up his index finger, "1) try and wash them yourself." He held up his middle finger to join the index, "2) allow me to wash them and trust that I will not doing anything untoward to you."

Tim gave her a few minutes to decide what she wanted, before her arms fell away and he saw properly for the first time his co-worker’s glorious breasts.

"I can see why you like your breasts." Tim joked, but underneath it all, he was doing his best not to get hard. 

"Ha ha," Rachel mocked. "Just hurry up, the soap is starting to dry and itch me."

"Yes, ma'am." Tim tried to be as gentle as possible, while completing this task. He cleaned the left one first, since it was ok. He even ignored the fact that her nipples had gotten hard from the washing. However, they both heard the small moan that escaped Rachel and it was not one of pain.

Blue eyes met brown and brown looked away.

"My breasts are sensitive." Rachel said by way of explanation.

Tim nodded, he peeled the bandage from her left breast and cleaned the ointment from it, with a damp rag. Since Rachel had complained about the soap drying and itching her, he decided to wash that off. "Get in the tub, kneel with your back to the faucet and try not to hunch over." 

"Yes, Staff Sergeant Gutterson." Rachel teased, hissing a little when the movement made her stitches pull.

He helped her into the bath and once she was in position, he grabbed a dry face towel and gave it to her. "Hold this over your stitches." He left for a few seconds, returning with a small stainless-steel bowl. Collecting warm water in it, he poured it over her back and down her arms, one at a time, making sure not to get her stitches wet.

With Rachel still in the bath, he cleaned the stitches on her waist. 

"Hey Tim." The face towel laid forgotten on the edge of the bath; Rachel's arms had gotten tired of holding it up. Modesty be damned. 

"Yeah?" 

"I can clean my lower areas."

His eyes snapped up to meet hers, before looking down at her white underwear that had become slightly see through thanks the water. Tim's eyes were suddenly looking elsewhere, a more prominent red tint high on his cheeks. "Good idea." He cleared his throat. "How do you want to do this?"

"Help me sit on the edge again."

Tim steadied her with one hand on her left shoulder, the other by her waist on the right. He kept his eyes on the small tattoo of a katana between her shoulder blades, something he never knew existed. "I like your ink." He commented before his brain could catch up.

"Thanks." Rachel grunted as she shimmered her underwear off and down her legs, kicking it out of the way. Tim had turned on the faucet for her and she slowly cleaned her intimate area, with Tim a strong, solid presence at her back. Almost clean, she let the water run down her legs.

Once clean, Rachel told Tim where to find her underwear with specific instructions to bring the blue cottons one and her _Black Widow_ t-shirt and black sleep shorts. He returned with the items, resting her pyjamas on the face-basin counter. 

"How do we do this?" He held up her blue underwear.

Rachel looked exhausted as she answered, "close your damn eyes and get them on me." Tim raised an eyebrow. "I am too damn exhausted to try and retain any of my decency. Just do as told and get them on."

Tim said nothing, just dropping to his knees once again, closing his eyes and letting Rachel direct him. He got her underwear on, his hands lingering a bit too long at her waist.

"Time to redress your stitches." The task went a whole lot smoother than the beginning, but that might have been in part that Rachel began falling asleep sitting up and Tim had to be gently waking her every few minutes. Fully dressed, Tim walked behind Rachel once again back to the room. "Are you in pain?" 

He pulled the covers up to Rachel's neck when she shook her head. 

"Ok," he kept his voice low. "when next you wake, you need to eat something and take some medication."

"Hmm." Rachel was fast on her way to dreamland. 

Tim stood there, still clad only in his boxer briefs, looking down at her. "You look so small Rachel." His voice was low, speaking to himself as he watched her sleeping face. "So, small and so young." He brushed some hair back from her forehead. "Hurry up and heal. I do not know how longer I can see the woman I am in love with naked and unable to do anything about it."

He placed a kiss on Rachel's forehead before leaving her to sleep, with the intention of taking a cold shower himself. Tim left the bedroom door open, so that he could hear if anything happened, unaware of the shocked look on Rachel's face as she watched him leave, having heard everything he said.

The next three weeks were going to be interesting for them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of this fic, we are all going to pretend that Art has enough Marshal's for his top three to be out of office all at the same time. LOL!!!


	4. Moments With Rachel Brooks & Tim Gutterson (PART I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moments in the lives of Rachel and Tim, in no particular order, as co-workers, more than co-workers and as husband and wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

**1) Problem**

"I have a problem."

"As in you have feelings for him? Or his body won't fit in the trunk kind of problem."

Rachel slowly turned to look at Tim, who merely raised an eyebrow. 

"Tim, 1) I am married to you. Who the hell would I have feelings for? And, 2) I did not murder anyone."

* * *

**2) Living**

"I'm usually about live, laugh, love and dance."

Rachel glanced up at her husband as he stood in front of her desk. "When the fuck are you ever like that?

Tim looked at their co-workers, well one in particular sporting a white cowboy hat, currently getting his ass chewed out by Art. 

"But today, it's more like raise, aim, fire and reload."

She went back to the file she was reading. "Ah, that's more like it."

* * *

**3) Tattoos**

Everyone knew Tim had a tattoo on his right wrist of his M24 and the words ‘ _One Shot, One Kill’_. Only a few knew he had second one on his right pectoral. However, Tim knew that he was the only person on earth, aside from the tattoo artist, who had the knowledge that Rachel has triskele tattooed in the middle of her back.

Likewise, Rachel was the only who knew that Tim had a third tattoo of a sunflower on his right hipbone, because that is Rachel's favourite flower.

* * *

**4) Smile**

Tim smiled as if he had no idea how to do so. And it was even more evident as Rachel watched the manic monstrosity split his face in two as he taunted two not so smart henchmen of some wannabe king pin trying to start shit in Harlan _again._

Rachel wondered if it was due to his upbringing, his time in the Rangers or just something that he was just born lacking. She kept those thoughts to herself; never once hinting that Tim's 'smile' was the stuff of nightmares.

However, the smile he had on their wedding day could have rivalled the sun for its brightness and a rose for its beauty.

* * *

**5) 5'2"**

Rachel may have been 5'2", but her attitude was 6'2". She has put down men twice her size and made them cry. And she sure as hell had no problem drop kicking Tim's ass when he called her an angry little midget.

* * *

**6) Mona Lisa Smile**

Tim loved Rachel's smile; especially when it was aimed at him.

* * *

**7) My Teeth and Ambitions Are Bared**

Tim never allowed his anger to be overt. He always kept a levelled head no matter the situation. To him, it was a waste of energy shouting or breaking things because of anger.

It was the same with Rachel. Whenever angry, her voice would always remain low and cool. It never rose and that alone was able to scare criminals.

So, it was quite a surprise for Tim, when Rachel calmly approached him in the middle of their busy office and delivered a jaw breaking left hook across his face, before returning to her desk and resuming her work. Tim had no idea if he fell from the sheer force of the punch or the shock from the overt act of aggression, as he sat there on the tiled floor, his fellow Marshals staring in horror.

* * *

**8) Something Blue**

It was not planned. 

It was not something they had discussed beforehand.

Years from now, looking back, Rachel would say it was the next step.

Tim would say he found the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

* * *

**9) One Shot. One Kill.**

Rachel knew she had a serious problem when the new guy, 28-year-old, former U.S Army Ranger sniper, Tim Gutterson brought out his rifle to handle a delicate situation that at any moment would turn bloody. 

She watched as he set it up, using the trunk of her car to prop it up as he took aim.

And with one clean shot, Tim had put a neat little hole directly between the eyes of the violent fugitive they were hunting. He wasn't smug about the kill. Didn't gloat, brag or so much as smile, that he had gotten his man. But when he turned and saw her staring, well the lascivious smile she received in response said it all. 

* * *

**10) Not What It Looks Like**

If someone had told Tim 24 hours ago, that he would be found in a compromising position with his co-worker of six months, in the locker room, because of a busted water pipe, he would have shot them just for breathing.

Well, 24 hours later found one Tim Gutterson on the floor laying on top of one Rachel Brooks, his hips cradled between her jean’s clad legs, his hands braced on either side of her head holding his weight up so as not to crush her. The scene would not have been so bad, if not for the fact that Rachel was missing her shirt.

They both stared up at Art from their position on the floor.

"I am too old for this shit." Art mumbled, walking off and leaving his two deputies with burning faces.

* * *

**11) Run**

Tim had no idea Rachel's short legs could move so fast. He guessed the wild pig chasing them was more than enough motivation for Rachel to outrun him, a former U.S. Army Ranger.

* * *

**12) "I can't carry a tune. I don't know how to shoot a basketball and my handwriting is, uh barely legible. But I don't miss." - Deputy U.S. Marshal Tim Gutterson - Justified**

That was the most bold face lie that Rachel had ever heard.

Tim had one of the most beautiful singing voices she has had the pleasure of being audience to. She had heard him belt out Aretha Franklin, Whitney Houston, even somehow reaching Mariah Carey's high pitch. This may just be in the privacy of their home, but he definitely had a career in singing should he ever get tired of hunting fugitives.

* * *

**13) Forever and Always**

"You said you would love me forever and always Rach." Tim was currently walking backwards around their living room managing to avoid hitting the furniture, his eyes never leaving Rachel's tiny angry form stalking him.

"That does not apply to you eating the last of my cookies and cream ice cream, shit face."

* * *

**14) Til' Death Do us Part**

They got married in a small church, because Tim recalled a childhood memory of his mother saying that she had always wanted to get married in one. It was beautifully decorated in blue and silver, with white flowers covering every surface possible, thanks to Rachel's mother and Winona.

Willa was the most adorable flower girl, Raylan was Tim's best man, standing proud beside him. Art officiated the wedding, sniffling a little throughout the ceremony. Tim was dressed in his military formal dress and Rachel was dressed in a beautiful white elegant, lace empire waistline dress. Her hair done up in a French roll, her ears adorned in simple diamond knobs Tim had gifted her with a week earlier. 

The wedding was small, twenty people between them in total. 

But it did not matter to them how small it was, or that they would not be able to go on their honeymoon until three months’ time because of work, because they were finally bound to each other, deciding that only death would part them.

* * *

**15) Jealousy**

Tim was not jealous. He had no use for such a useless emotion. He had everything he could ever want; a rewarding job, a decent amount of savings in his bank account, and a beautiful wife.

A beautiful wife, who was currently receiving all the attention of one Jimmy Tolan two desks down from his. He watched from the corner of his eye, as Jimmy sat in Rachel's visitor chair, his elbow resting on her desk as he watched her write a report.

Tim mentally rolled his eyes at the stars in the kid's eyes. The only reason he was there, being he had accompanied his criminal boss to the office under the guise of being there for protection. Even though everyone within a twenty-mile radius could see that Jimmy had a massive crush on Rachel and she was doing nothing to dissuade him. 

The first time Tim had heard Jimmy ask Rachel out, he had gripped his coffee cup to hard that it shattered from the force. Rachel had turned him down, but that did not deter Jimmy in anyway.

Still watching them, Tim saw when Rachel cracked a smile at something Jimmy said, and well _that_ was it. Grabbing some files, Tim got up from his seat, as he walked passed the chair in which Jimmy was sitting, the sniper hooked his foot around the chair leg and dragged it with as much force as he could, causing Jimmy to give a shout of surprise as the chair was no longer under him, his ass connecting harshly with the hard tiled floor. 

Rachel leaned over her desk to look at Jimmy on the floor, before looking at Tim's calm retreating back, a small smirk on her face. 

* * *

**16) Water Fight**

It was a complete accident when Rachel sprayed Tim with the kitchen sink hose. In her defence, she was still half asleep and Tim had appeared behind her without making a sound. She kept telling him that she was going to get a bell for him. However, Tim did not see it like that and wanted revenge.

Hence the reason why at 9:15 a.m. on a Saturday morning, they were outside in the backyard, in their pyjamas squealing and screaming like children as they soaked each other. Rachel had the garden hose and Tim a super-soaker water-gun.

* * *

**17) Drugs**

Rachel has never touched anything drugs related in her life, seeing what it had done to her sister. She stayed far from alcohol as well. Tim in a show of support had given up drinking as well; getting rid of all the liquor in their house. They instead became each other's drug.

* * *

**18) Pilot**

No one had any idea that Rachel could pilot a helicopter until they saw her in action. Tim would never admit to anyone that he had never been harder in his life than in that moment, seeing Rachel pilot one of the three helicopters that were on loan to them, the pilot having been shot during a shoot-out.

That night, after they had made it home, Tim was on Rachel the moment the door was closed. And if just hearing the word 'Captain', made Rachel blush and Tim smirk, well no one had to know.

* * *

**19) Jewellery**

Rachel kept her jewellery simple and to the bare minimum; a simple thin gold chain with a cross pendant, a small pair of gold knobs and a leather band wristwatch. That is why when she walked into the office the Monday after the weekend she and Tim got married in New York, people were quick to notice the simple gold band on the ring finger of her left hand.

* * *

**20) Meeting**

"Rachel."

At the sound of her name Rachel looked away from the white board she was currently staring at in the conference room to see Art and the new guy approaching. 

"Lemme introduce you to Deputy U.S. Marshal Tim Gutterson."

The young man standing beside Art, who looked as if he should still be in high school took a step forward, his hand outstretched. Rachel grasped it and could not help but notice how his hand engulfed hers, his long fingers delicately folding over her hand. 

"Nice to meet you." She smiled at him.

"Likewise, ma'am." His Texan drawl sent a spike of arousal shooting through Rachel, but she violently stomped it down.

They stood there, their hands still holding each other's. They only broke contact when Art cleared his throat, clearly not having noticed that his two employees, upon meeting were instantly attracted to each other.

"Well, we'll leave you to you work, Rachel." Art turned and began walking out, "I still have to introduce Tim to the others."

Rachel nodded, "glad to have you with us Deputy Gutterson."

The smile and wink she got in response were enough to get her going.

"Likewise, ma'am." Tim responded before spinning on his heels,

* * *

**21) Dignity**

Rachel all but tore the sheets from the bed. Not that she cared, after last night, they needed to be washed. She was unable to recall how many times Tim, her new co-worker of six months had taken her on them the previous night.

Engrossed in her search for her missing phone that she knew she dropped on the bed that when the alarm when off, she did not hear when Tim exited the bathroom and came to stand behind her.

"You're not going to find your dignity in those sheets."

He got a pillow to the face as a response.

* * *

**22) Rough Week**

Rachel sighed as she dropped herself in the couch beside Tim, who handed his beer to her. She took a sip, allowing the bitter but cold liquid to slide down her throat.

“It has been a rough week.” Tim commented, resting his head on her shoulder.

“But, I didn’t need bail money.” Rachel replied.

“And I don’t have a body count, so it could have been worse.”

“Yeah,” Rachel agreed linking her fingers with Tim’s. “We could have walked into a wasp’s nest and now look like a bottle of _Pepto-Bismol_ like Raylan.”

They were quiet for a moment before Tim responded, “well shit, compared to him, we had a fan-fucking-tastic week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Numbers 1 & 2 were borrowed from a posting on Facebook.
> 
> Number 7 borrowed from "Be Prepared" - The Lion King (the 1994 version.)
> 
> Number 21 was borrowed from a posting on Instagram.


	5. A Hospital Of All Places (Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They met in a hospital room and the rest is history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

Rachel was currently attempting to make a break for it. Her doctor and Art kept throwing around the words “overnight” and “observation”, even though she told them that she was ok and could go home, they just would not listen to reason.

Two hours earlier saw Rachel and her team, as well as the local police were involved in a tense standoff with a violent fugitive. Rachel was attempting to get the man to stand down, when he decided that he would rather die than go back to prison. In an instant he had fired his gun and was then pumped full of bullets courtesy of the Marshals and police.

Only when the dust had cleared, and it was confirmed that their guy as dead did Rachel realise, she had been shot in her left bicep. With the adrenaline no longer flowing through her body, the pain had set in. A medic was instantly called, and she was carted off to the hospital to have the bullet removed.

Everything was going fine until the doctor said she wanted Rachel to stay overnight in case there were complications.

What “complications”? Rachel had no idea and did not care. Consequently, she told them, she was going to the restroom and was now attempting to exit the hospital while avoiding her fellow Marshals.

She had only one floor to clear before she was home safe when the hospital speakers crackled to life.

_“Marshal Brooks. Marshal Brooks, you are to return to the treatment room promptly.”_

Rachel froze, “shit!”

She was still wearing her Marshal wind breaker, with the blood still on it, and all of a sudden, thanks to that announcement, she could feel all eyes on her.

“Excuse, me.” Rachel turned to the voice clearly addressing her and saw a motherly looking nurse approaching her. “Are you Marshal Brooks?”

“No.” Rachel lied, before immediately speed-walking down the hall, ignoring the nurse calling her. She turned the corner and saw Nelson and one of the newer Marshals heading her way. Without thinking Rachel ducked into the first door that was open, closing It gently.

“Fuck my life.” She breathed.

“Who is there?” A voice with a heavy country drawl sounded from around the corner, causing Rachel to jump a foot in the air.

Slowly Rachel moved from her spot by the door and inched around the wall, coming face to face with a young man sitting up in the hospital bed, his short brown hair slightly falling into his face, and sharp blue eyes, belonging to a rather handsome face.

Those blue eyes roamed over Rachel’s entire form in less than a second before meeting her eyes again.

“Sorry to have barged in like this.” Rachel said.

The young man settled back against the pillows. “No worries.” His voice sounded as lazy as he looked. “I am guessing you’re ‘Marshal Brooks’ from the announcement.” His eyes moved slightly to her left and down, and Rachel knew he was looking at the bullet hole and blood on the left sleeve of her wind breaker.

Rachel nodded, “you heard that.” She leaned against the arm of the couch situated in the room. It had been a long day, and she just wanted to go home, shower and sleep.

The guy snorted, “I think the _entire_ hospital heard that.” He looked at Rachel and the exhaustion that was exuding from her. “Wanna have a seat?”

“God, yes.” Rachel just slid over the arm of the couch, sighing as it took the weight of her, that her legs were tired of holding up.

“Name’s not ‘God’, it’s Tim. Tim Gutterson.” He introduced himself.

Rachel’s eyes snapped open, not having any idea when they had closed. “Did you just say ‘Tim Gutterson’?”

Tim nodded.

“Well, shit.”

“Problem Marshal?” He asked with a bored look.

“Not at all.” Rachel laughed. “This world is just too small.” She said to herself before remembering her manners. “My name’s Rachel Brooks, I am the Marshal assigned to train you.”

“Wow.” Tim drawled. “Imagine us, trainer and trainee having such a ‘meet cute’.”

“A what?”

“Nothing.”

Too tired to figure out what her trainee meant; Rachel let it slide. Instead she asked. “What are you in for?”

Tim decided that it was the best course of action to pull down his covers, and raise his hospital shirt, giving Rachel a good look at his defined abs. “Appendicitis. My roommate had to rush me in early this morning.” He looked back at Rachel, fixing his clothes and cover. “I guess this is a good time to inform you that I will more than likely not be starting next week Monday. Doc says I need at least two weeks to heal.”

Rachel dragged a hand down her face. Sucked that the new Marshal would be two weeks late due to a medical emergency, but at least she would have more time to prepare, considering she was only informed of his arrival the day before. “Yeah, I’ll inform-“

_“Deputy Brooks.”_

Rachel’s eyes snapped up to look at the speaker on the wall in the corner of the room.

_“Deputy Brooks, you have one minute, to return to the treatment room. If that time limit expires and you are not here. Your ass will immediately be sent on two weeks sick leave and I will give your trainee to Nelson.”_

A look of horror passed over Rachel’s face, much to the amusement of Tim.

“Shit. That was Art.”

“Art?”

“My boss.” She sighed before correcting herself. “ _Our_ boss.”

“Sounds like a peach.”

Rachel made a face.

“So, what were you doing, why you came in here?” Tim looked at her with the curiosity of a small child in those blue eyes and Rachel found that she really liked them.

“I was trying to make a break for it.”

Tim’s grin split his face in two. “Really?” He got out with a small laughed.

Rachel made a _what-can-you-do_ gesture. “I got shot in the arm. And my doctor wants to keep me overnight for observation, in case complications arise.” She fell back against the couch; her legs splayed out in front of her. Her head was starting to hurt, so she reached up and pulled out her hair tie, allowing her hair to fall free.

“Is this the first time you’re being shot?” Tim asked softly.

“Yeah. And it does hurt like a bitch.”

Tim chuckled, “that it does. And yes, I have gotten shot once, thanks to my time in the Rangers.”

“How’d you-“

 _“Deputy Brooks”_ Arts voice sounded over the broadcast system again.

“Shit,” Tim grinned, “the hospital should hire him from all the announcements he’s making.”

_“Deputy Brooks consider yourself on two weeks sick leave. If I see you anywhere near the office, I will assign you to ‘walk-ins’.”_

Tim did not bother to hide his amusement. “What are ‘walk-ins’?”

“What I will assign you, if you do not wipe that look off your face.”

He was not fazed in the least and Rachel sighed. “What the hell am I to do for two weeks?”

“Train me.”

Rachel looked at Tim as if he had lost his mind. “What?”

“You’re on two weeks sick leave, same as me. Train me.” He said it as if it were that simple.

“You are on two weeks sick leave, _to heal from undergoing surgery_.” Rachel pointed out.

“So?”

“So?” Rachel wanted to slap him. “So, there will be no training. You are to rest.”

“Oh, come on Rach.” She ignored him shortening her name. “You just had to spend one night here, and you couldn’t even do that. How are you going to fare for two weeks?”

He had a point which Rachel hated to admit. They both were out for two weeks, and while he couldn’t go anywhere, Rachel could still take him through the nonphysical aspect of his training, such as how the paperwork was to be done, which forms were for signing out the firearms, office vehicles.

She could start him on current federal fugitives and their last known locations. How to spot Marshal friendly people when on the job.

Rachel looked at Tim, who knew he had won.

“Ok, but nothing too strenuous.” Tim nodded, “and no one can know about this.” He nodded again and Rachel gave him a stern look. “I mean it Tim; you cannot show up to work in two weeks letting on that you know these things already.”

“Gotcha’, I will dumber than a blonde, and not act as a know-it-all.”

“Don’t be a smartass as well.”

“Well, I _have_ to be something.”

Rachel rolled her eyes and stood, unaware of Tim’s eyes doing another sweep of her body, this time an appreciative one.

“Well Tim, I will be seeing you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow ma’am.”

Rachel smiled at the title, so very Army of him. The next two weeks were going to be something else.


	6. I Never Meant To Fall In Love…(Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> …But I did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

The first time Tim kissed Rachel; it was during the fifth month in his new job as a U.S. Marshal. Rachel was in charge of his training, and she had included him on the biggest fugitive hunt of both their careers.

They had managed to get their guy and they celebrated by doing copious amounts of paperwork thanks to the damage the fugitive had done before and during his capture.

They were both in the conference room, the only ones there, Art having left hours ago. The office was dark, the only light coming from the light in the hallway and the conference room. Tim had just finished the last of his report, Rachel having already concluded hers.

“You know, with a name like Zachariah Ezekiel Abraham Winston, I might have murdered someone too.” Tim said, closing the file. Rachel giggled, drunk with exhaustion, but to him, she was the most beautiful person he had ever set eyes on.

With it being a Friday, Rachel was clad in a navy-blue three-quarter sleeve button shirt, with the ends tucked into the waist of her jeans pants. It was one Tim’s favourite looks on her. She had one leg bend under the under, lazily turning the chair was sitting in left to right, watching as Tim organized his files.

He was sitting at the head of the table, closest to the door and her to his left.

“All finished.” She declared as he put both their files together in a neat pile to be sent to the relevant authorities Monday morning. Rachel got up and stretched her arms high above her head, her shirt untucking itself from the movement. Her eyes were squeeze shut and Tim acted without thinking.

In the blink of an eye he was up and out of his seat, pressing his lips to Rachel’s in a chaste kiss.

Rachel’s eyes flew open, but Tim had already broken the kiss, staring at her with unsure blue eyes.

“What-”

She had barely gotten the word out before Tim was kissing her again. The kiss this time was urgent, demanding and pleading; pleading that she would kiss him back.

Tim had his hands on her slim waist, his long fingers holding tight to the warm flesh that he found under her shirt. Rachel had her hands on his shoulders, holding on as well, before who they were and where they were came back to her.

She broke the kiss, turning her head away, but not physically pushing him away.

“Tim.” Her voice was breathless, as Tim changed tactics and kissed her cheek down her jaw to her neck.

He pushed the collar of her shirt out of the way so that he could kiss where her neck and shoulder joined. His lips met her bra strap and his ran his tongue along the length of it, back to her collar bone, making Rachel moan.

Tim answered by pushing his hips into hers, making her feel his hard cock. That made Rachel push him away physically.

They were both breathing hard. Rachel’s eyes wide as Tim’s were half lidded, lust swimming in them.

“What,” Rachel licked her lips, Tim’s eyes following the motion, looking as if he wanted another taste. “What was that?”

“A kiss.” He answered as if it was that simple.

“Tim,” she closed her eyes which was a mistake on her part, as Tim took the opportunity to get in her personal space again. Rachel’s eyes snapped open when she felt large hands on her hips; she had to tilt her head back to meet Tim’s eyes.

Tim, the young new guy, the ex-Army Ranger. Rachel’s ex-Army Ranger, who she was in charge of training, was currently holding her close, too close, looking as if he was a few seconds away from eating her in the biblical sense of the word.

This, whatever this was, needed to stop here and now. And Rachel was about to do so, except Tim had to go and open his damn mouth.

“You are so strong.” His voice drawled, low in the quiet of the office. The confession was just as loud, as if he had shouted it at the top of his lungs. “The first time we met, you commanded the entire room when you entered.” Tim’s thumbs had found warm skin again and were rubbing circles right above the waist of her pants.

Tim stole a quick kiss from Rachel.

“You are strong, intelligent, quick-witted, doesn’t take shit from anyone. Shit, Rachel,” he leaned their foreheads together. “You have no idea what you have been doing to me since I arrived here.”

Rachel was at a lost for words. She needed to get a handle on the situation.

“I’m in love with you.” He exhaled. “I never meant to fall in love, but I did.”

“Tim, you can’t be.” She whispered. Caught up as she was in his hypnotic eyes, Rachel was unaware that he had been gently walking her backwards until her back connected with the wall, and she was well and trapped between two hard surfaces, and _hard_ Tim was.

“Why?” He pushed harder against her, and Rachel was not sure if her hands were against his shoulders to push him away or drag him closer.

“Because it is inappropriate. You are my junior. Think of how this would look, especially for me if it got out.” Rachel glanced a quick look outside, as if expecting anyone to be out there at 11:26 p.m. on a Friday night. “I am not chancing my career on some fling, because the young new guy is star-struck.” She hissed, immediately feeling some regret for her harsh words, when she saw the hurt flicker in Tim’s blue eyes, but it was gone just as quick as it was there.

“This is no ‘fling’. And give me a little credit Rach. I am a former Ranger sniper; I can keep a secret and I know how to separate personal from professional.”

Rachel’s fingers kept opening on closing on the material of Tim’s shirt, her eyes roaming the strong chest in front of her.

“Please do not disregard my feelings for you Rachel.”

She squeezed her eyes closed. Rachel herself could not deny that she felt something for her ex-Army Ranger. He was intelligent himself, brave to the point of being reckless (something she still needs talk to him about), she appreciated his dry sense of humour and he respected her from the get-go; something that was hard to receive as black woman in the south, doing a job that is supposedly only for men.

“Please do not make _me_ regret this.” She made her own plea, feeling Tim’s lips curve up into a smile against her forehead.

“Let me take you home and I guarantee you won’t.”

* * *

A year later found Tim and Rachel standing before Art’s desk as he looked between them, his face a mixture of righteous indignation, murderous intent (for Tim corrupting his best/favourite Marshal) and something looking like he was considering early retirement.

He glanced down at the simple platinum wedding band on Rachel’s ring finger.

“Do I even want to know how this started?” He held up his hand when Tim opened his mouth to speak. “I do not want to hear anything from your smartass mouth.” Tim’s mouth snapped closed.

Rachel hoped that they had not just broken their boss, as he sat there staring at them again.

“You both managed to keep this thing under the radar for some time. I suggest continuing to do so until I figure out what to do.”

“Yes, Chief.” They answered in unison.

“Now, go back to your desks and be productive.” Art waved them off.

“He looked as if he wanted to murder me.” Tim said as they reached his desk.

Rachel looked back in Art’s office and saw him staring hard at her husband. “And he still is. That’s what you get for marrying his favourite Marshal without his permission.”

Tim smirked, “didn’t hear you complainin’ when I popped the question. Hell, you were the one to suggest we get married that weekend in New York.”

Rachel scoffed, “get back to work Gutterson.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She levelled him with a stern look, and he leered at her.

“See ya’ at home wifey.” He said lower, only for Rachel’s ears.

“Yeah, see you.”


	7. Cat's Outta The Bag (Rachel & Jimmy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still waters run deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to: Don't Ask. Don't Tell.
> 
> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

"Deputy," Chief Deputy Art Mullen had his fingers steepled and pressing against his lips, as he sat in the small conference room that one of the kind nurses in the hospital allowed them to use. Rachel sat across the table from him, her face unreadable as Tim, Raylan and Boyd Crowder stood outside the window watching the spectacle. 

"Imagine my concern when I received a call telling me that an ambulance was called to your home, only to find out that it was for one of Boyd Crowder's underlings."

Rachel knew that it was only a matter of time before their secret got out, and that she had some explaining to do, but at the same time she wanted to tell her boss and the three stooges standing outside to mind their own fucking business.

"Is there a question somewhere there chief?" Sassing her boss was not doing her any good, even as she heard snickering from outside.

Art pinned her with a stern look. "My question is: what the hell was Jimmy Tolan doing at your house?"

"Seeking safety and help chief."

"Why?"

Rachel shrugged, she still had not gotten why someone had ran Jimmy off the road before he lost consciousness. Probably because of Boyd Crowder as usual. A headache was beginning to form behind her eyes, she had Jimmy's dried blood on hands from when she had removed her gloves and Jimmy was still in surgery, with no word for the last hour about his condition. Rachel had been right, one of Jimmy’s broken ribs had punctured his right lung and his arm that was dislocated, was also broken. 

In addition, she still had to go out and find the crash site. When Jimmy had been rushed into surgery, Rachel had gotten exactly three minutes to contact a friend in the local PD to find out what she could, before her team came running in. So far, her phone remained silent.

"Deputy!" Art snapped, and Rachel looked at him with tired eyes. "Rachel," his voice softer. "Why did a known criminal associate of Boyd Crowder go to your house for help?"

"Because-"

"Marshal Brooks?" A soft voice interrupted them. Both Art and Rachel turned to look at the nurse who had been giving them updates on Jimmy. 

Rachel stood, "yes?"

"Your brother is out of surgery."

"Brother?!" Art and the three stooges outside echoed.

The nurse glanced at them before speaking to Rachel once again. "The surgery went well, and he's being moved to the recovery room. Once, he begins to wake up from the anaesthesia, he will be moved to a private room. Once you are finished in here," she gestured to the room at large, "come find me at the nurses' station and I will take you to see him."

Rachel breathed easier hearing those words. "Thank you, nurse."

The nurse left, and Rachel was now surrounded by her boss, two co-workers and the known criminal who is too smart to be caught. They were giving her various looks of bewilderment, the most amusing being Tim's. The sniper hardly showed any emotion other than aloofness, so, it was slightly refreshing for Rachel that she was able to get a reaction out of him.

"What?" She was tired, and all she wanted was to see her baby brother and _maybe_ contact their father.

"How," Art stopped, and Rachel swore something had broken in him. His mouth opened and closed, not words coming out.

It was then that Boyd Crowder spoke up, sounding as eloquent as a snake in a tailored tuxedo. "I think Marshal Brooks, what your boss is trying to ask, is how in the hell are you and Jimmy Tolan, my _bartender,_ brother and sister? And why was it kept from us?"

Rachel raised an elegant eyebrow. "I assume you are asking that because I am black, and he is white."

"For lack of a better answer, yes." Boyd was genuinely curious. He had never once even seen Jimmy so much as glance in Rachel's direction whenever they were in the same vicinity. So, hearing such a revelation was rather intriguing. 

"And for lack of a better answer, it's no one's business and our relation to each other was not worth mentioning."

"Well, it sure as hell was worth something for him to run to you." Raylan who had been quiet throughout the entire fiasco spoke. "And it sure as hell is going to raise a few eyebrows when this gets out."

Rachel eyed him coolly, "I know, and I am prepared to face that when the time comes. But for now, I will be going to see my baby brother, so get the hell out of my way."

The men parted, allowing her more than enough room to leave the conference room.

"Well," Tim drawled, "this is going to be a shit storm."

* * *

"You got anymore siblings that we should know about?" Tim teased, falling into step beside Rachel as she exited the hospital after making sure Jimmy would be ok.

Rachel gave him the side-eye. "Yeah," the sun even though having just risen was already promising a hot day. "A brother who is a former U.S. Army sniper, another brother who is former Special Forces and a sister who was in the Air Force." 

Tim whistled, keeping up with her. "Military family."

"Hmm." Rachel turned the corner. She needed a cab to get back home.

"What about you?"

"What about me?" Not seeing anything remotely looking like a taxi, Rachel spun to face Tim. "Did you drive here?"

Tim raised an eyebrow, "yeah?"

"Good, you're driving me home."

He didn't argue, just gestured for her to follow him. "Back to my question: you have any military time?"

Rachel stopped walking, making Tim stop as well and turn to look back. Her face unreadable. "That’s classified."

Tim's expression to that sort of answer was one of pure intrigue.

The drive back to her house was quiet. Upon arrival Tim asked.

“And your dad?"

Rachel felt tired, and she still had to go get ready for work. "Army and then sheriff for a small town."

"And your mom?"

"That's enough with the questions." Rachel said, not unkindly, just tired. Her family was her business and hers alone. "I need to keep somethings a mystery."

Tim nodded, "see ya' at work."

"Yeah." Rachel exited his SUV, and she could feel his eyes on her back as she walked towards her house. 

A whole new can of worms have been opened and Rachel was no looking forward to the questions that were to come.


	8. Target Practice (Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim teaches Rachel how to shoot his sniper rifle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know jack shit about guns and shooting. I googled some stuff, such as the weight of sniper rifles; everything else is made up. 
> 
> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

"You know," Rachel's voice rang out in the otherwise empty locker room, save for Tim and his rifle, "it is fascinating watching you set up and take a shot."

Tim laughed, "thank you. Took a lot of training to look that pretty."

Rachel rolled her eyes at his smartass teasing, watching as Tim broke down his sniper rifle. His long delicate looking, but highly deadly fingers packing away each piece as if it were some priceless artefact. The tattoo on the inside of his right wrist catching her attention as he went about his chore.

A thought came to her suddenly. It had been a few quiet and boring weeks in the Lexington Marshal's office. The only exciting thing to have happened was Raylan spilling a cup of hot coffee on the crotch of his pants.

Frowning Rachel asked, "did SWAT ask for your help on something?"

"No. Are they going to?" Tim having packed away the entire rifle, zipped up the case and stood up properly, turning to face Rachel who was leaning against the locker room's closed door. 

"Tim, I am asking, because you have your rifle all nicely packed up. I just want to know where the action is and if I can tag along." She shrugged as if her question was no big deal.

Tim raised an eyebrow and that small action said everything he didn't. Rachel liked that about him. He was a man of few words, and fewer actions; except when it came to explaining something, then he gesticulated as if it were going out of style. She almost got hit once, by his flailing hand, while standing beside him as he presented a vital discovery, he made about a fugitive to Art.

Realising Tim was still awaiting an explanation to her weird question, she admitted, or more like snapped, "I have cabin fever, ok. The last three weeks have been too calm and quiet. I am climbing the walls here."

"How about throwing some more coffee on Raylan." Tim so helpfully suggested. 

Her eyes narrowed and Tim held up his hands in surrender. 

"Fortunately for me, no one has come a calling for my exceptional marksmanship." His eyes crinkled from the smile spreading across his face. Rachel had literally deflated upon hearing his words. Crossing her arms, with a pout on her lips, she looked like a child.

"I was going to visit a friend tomorrow. That is why I packed up my rifle." He explained.

"You're going to visit a friend," Rachel said slowly. "And you’re taking along your rifle? What the hell kind of friendship do y'all have?"

Tim gave Rachel a flat look. "Continue sassing me and I won't take you with me." That had her perking up and Tim smirked knowingly. "I thought so. My friend, she has a shooting range. I am going to practice for a bit in the peace and quiet, then take the rifle home for a thorough cleaning."

He picked up the case as if the rifle pieces in it weight nothing, slinging the strap over his shoulder, walking in Rachel's direction.

"Ok, and I am coming with you, why?" She looked up as he was now closer to her, the grin on his face one not to trust.

"You will have to wait and see tomorrow. I'll pick you up."

With a huff, Rachel turned and pulled open the door, Tim holding it as she exited and followed behind her.

* * *

The banging on her apartment door the next morning, had Rachel up, gun in hand and flinging it open to reveal Tim, leaning against her doorway, looking like the cliched bad boy hanging out at the good girl’s locker at school.

"You are too wide awake for _fuck o'clock_." Rachel commented, safety back on her gun. 

"It's 5 o'clock Rachel." Tim said as if it was no big deal waking up someone so early. 

"Oh, I forgot," her tone mocking, "you're an Army Ranger sniper, fuck sleep and basic human functions." Rachel was sure that it was illegal somewhere to wake this early. And she pointed to the window behind her, still showing the dark early morning sky. “The sky is still dark. What are you even doing here?" It dawned on her then to ask.

"I told you that I'd pick you up."

"You never said before the ass-crack of dawn."

"I have coffee."

Coffee was the magic word with Rachel, as her entire demeanour changed, and she seemed much more receiving to being woken up so early on a Saturday morning.

“Next time lead with that." 

She moved aside, allowing Tim in and accepting the cup of coffee he produced.

Tim took a seat on the couch in her living room, sipping his own coffee. "Go get dressed. The place we're going is three hours away." He looked at her as she remained in front of him, drinking her coffee, her eyes closed and a look of bliss on her face. He tilted his head, eyes narrowed, not appreciating being ignored for coffee. "I wanna get on the road and beat the traffic. Move your ass."

Rachel opened her eyes at his tone, not pleased at being spoken to like that, but did as told. Taking twenty minutes in total to shower and get dressed. She returned to the living room to see Tim holding a photo and staring at it. 

"You stare at it like that any longer, and you'll set it on fire."

He turned the picture so that she could see it. It was one taken the day she had graduated from Glynco. The celebration took place at a friend's house. A bright smile adorned her face and was flanked on either side by two guys. One with brown hair and dark brown eyes, sporting a pretty boy face. The other with blonde hair and green eyes, both of them towering over her. Her arms were around their waists and theirs around her shoulders. 

"You are really tiny." He smirked, looking back at the photo.

"Well, your ass ain't that tall." Tim was the only guy who she knew was not bothered by his height which most guys would consider being short; but even at 5'8", he was still taller than her.

As if reading her mind, he echoed her thoughts. "Still taller than you. Now c'mon." He returned the photo to its place. "Who are they?" He asked as the left the apartment, Rachel locking up behind them.

"Family." She said as if that explained it all.

* * *

They had stopped an hour into the drive, at a diner for breakfast, with Tim eating enough food to feed a small army. And then they were on the road again, with Rachel fast asleep for the remainder of the drive. To her, she was awoken too soon, with Tim informing her that they had arrived. Rachel stretched when she got out of the SUV, seeing that they were parked in literally the middle of nowhere.

"You know," Rachel's voice was sleep scratchy, "this seems like the start of a really bad horror movie."

"Really?" Tim exited the SUV, walking around to the trunk to retrieve his backpack and rifle.

"Yeah, a young couple goes into the woods for some fun and then they have to run for their lives from some unseen killer for the next ninety minutes."

Tim snorted. "And that is why I stick to fantasy. Can't mess that shit up." 

Locking his vehicle, Tim lead the way to the shooting range. Rachel looking around, taking in her surroundings.

"It's really quiet out here." She commented. The only sounds heard were their boots on the foliage littering the ground.

"Only when it's not hunting season." Tim's voice was dry. "Otherwise, you can't hear for shit."

"What? You can't handle the guns going off?"

Tim glanced back at her, "oh, I can handle the guns just fine. It's the fucking hooting and hollering of the rednecks, I can't stand. Makes me want to quiet them."

"As in shoot them."

"Unfortunately, my friend has strict rule against shooting other folks here."

Rachel's eyes were on Tim's back, watching as he walked with confidence. During her time with the Marshal's she has had to go through some heavily wooded areas, that she knows her ass would get turned around in, if she didn't have someone with her. Majority of those times, it was Tim who was with her, just like now. Except, today they are not running, but leisurely walking to their destination.

"Sounds like there is a story behind that rule."

He turned around to look at her, walking backwards with all the confidence in the world on the not so stable terrain. _Cocky bastard_ , she thought.

"Wanna hear the story, you have to carry the rifle."

Rachel gave him a look of disbelief. "You serious?"

"Those are the rules." He stopped walking, removing the case from across his torso. Motioning for Rachel to come closer, he eased the strap over her head and left shoulder, adjusting the strap until it was a proper length for her to manage and fitted snugly to her back.

Rachel finally felt the weight and it felt as if she had a small child on her back. "Just how heavy is this thing?"

Tim observed her as she took a step, making sure it was not too much weight, for someone not used to it, especially on such uneven terrain. He considered her question. "With all the parts in there, everything adds up to 20 pounds."

"Shit." Rachel grinned at him. "So, you mean when this is all assembled and you're out there being the badass that you are, you're basically holding the weight of a small child in your hands."

As they walked, Rachel was aware that the trees were becoming fewer.

"Pretty much."

"Huh, never would have known, with how you handle it with such ease."

"As I said, it took a lot of training." 

Tim had to duck a low hanging tree branch that Rachel just walked right under. She did not hide her grin.

"I wasn't only trained how to shoot, but to carrying three times my weight. My rifle is nothing, compared to the dead weight of my spotter who got his ass knocked unconscious and I had to haul him and my rifle back to safety."

"Wow," Rachel marvelled, "just like superman." Her tone teasing at the end.

He flashed her a grin. "Nah, I wanna be _the Falcon_. Much more badass."

They stepped out of the tree line and the land before them was just as uneven, but there was not a single tree in sight, except for one. Tim tapped Rachel's shoulder to keep walking. They walked towards that one lone tree; Tim deciding that was the best spot to set up. She watched as he retrieved a soft looking blanket from the backpack, setting it down in the shade the tree had to offer, with enough space for them both to lay on along with the rifle.

"Case please."

Rachel handed over the case without a word, sitting down crossed leg, watching with rapt attention as Tim put the pieces back together like a puzzle. He didn't miss a beat, didn't second guess himself. In a matter of seconds, she was looking at a fully assembled rifle.

"Next time, "I am timing you."

Tim flashed her a cocky grin. "7.58 seconds." He laid flat on his stomach, peering through the scope at what, Rachel could not see, but she did whistle with appreciation for more than one reason. 

"Ok." He sat back on his heels, and moved to the side, gesturing for Rachel to take his place.

She looked from him to the rifle and back to him. "What?"

"Lay down, peer through the scope and tell me what you see." He spoke and gestured at the same time. "Just don't adjust anything." A warning, and she had to wonder, who had fucked around with Tim Gutterson’s rifle before.

Rachel was still staring at him. "I thought _you_ were going practice, while I sit and watch." She finally spoke.

Tim changed positions, sitting properly on his butt, with one leg still flat on the blanket bent to at an angle and the other brought up to his chest so that he could rest his elbow on it.

"You said that you had cabin fever and in not a lot of words, that you wanted to see some action." He swung his arm out indicating to the open space surrounding them, "here is your action. I am going to teach you how to handle a sniper rifle." 

She looked back at the rifle, “this is your baby Tim. You sure you want me to learn off this?”

“That is why I told you not to adjust anything and I am sure. Now get into position.”

Mirroring Tim’s earlier position, she laid flat, the fingers her right-hand closing around the rifle’s grip, as her left hand held the gun steady. Closing her left eye, she peered through the scope.

Rachel felt, more than heard Tim shifting beside her but kept her head straight; getting a feel for the weapon in her hand, her eye still on the stationary target how many feet in the distance, she had no idea.

“Now,” Tim’s voice was in her ear. “Do you see the target?”

“Yes.”

“Describe it.” His voice was low, calm and desert dry.

“The target is a stationary circular black and red bulls-eye.” Rachel licked her lips, adjusting her grip. She felt Tim press into her side, his arm around her back, gripping her wrist and fingers gently, adjusting her hold on the rifle.

“I know you’re a damn good shot.” He spoke as he fixed her entire position, and Rachel almost kicked him when she felt his hands spreading her legs further apart. “But a sniper rifle has some serious kick. If you don’t hold it properly and shoot, you will not only stuffer a serious bruise, but also get knocked on your ass, whether standing, sitting or laid flat.”

Satisfied that Rachel was now in the correct position, Tim retook his prone position beside her, their sides pressed together. Their breathing in tandem, the air quiet and still around them.

“Keep your eyes on the target, and slowly put your finger on the trigger.” Tim instructed.

Rachel did so, keeping her breathing even. It was not a life and death situation, just practice. It must have been Tim’s no nonsense tone, or the fact that he was not only taking the time to help her stop climbing the walls, but to also teach her an important skill that might come in handy later on in her career as a Marshal, but she was being serious about each moment. She paid attention to his instructions, making a mental note of how he had positioned her.

“Now, you are very lucky that there is no wind today.” Tim’s voice sounded a bit envious. “When you are sure, slowly squeeze the trigger and take the shot.”

Rachel inhaled, exhaled. Her index finger gently squeezed the trigger back, hearing that first click, still squeezing there was that second click. The kickback was not as bad thanks to the change in her position, the sound of the gunshot echoed around them and Rachel released a whoop upon seeing that she had hit the target dead centre.

Tim clapped as Rachel released her hold on the rifle, rolling onto her back, a wide gleeful grin on her face.

“That was awesome.” Her grin was met with one of Tim’s own.

“I know.” He scooted over in the little bit of space vacated by Rachel, peering through the scope to see her handy work. “Any idea of how far the target is?”

Rachel shrugged, shielding her eyes from the sun to look at him properly. “500 feet?”

“2,000 metres.”

“Damn.”

Tim peered through the scope again, deciding to raise the stakes. "I am going to hit between the outermost ring and the second to outermost." He took the shot, moving so that Rachel could check.

"Guess you're not just a pretty face after all." She teased, though she was always impressed whenever he had to whip out his rifle, take aim and hit his mark. Always without fail. "You have never missed, have you?" Rachel looked at him, Tim meeting her eyes dead on.

"Never."

"Make sure you never do."

Tim grinned, spreading his arms as much as he could while on his side. "That's why we're out here. Practice." He gestured to the rifle, "your turn. Call it and take the shot."

Rachel rose to the challenge but missed the shot. They went like that for twenty minutes; calling out their target and shooting. Tim got all of his, and was impressed that Rachel got most of her, except for two where she tried hitting one of the thinner rings. Tim, then decided they had enough practice while prone and stood up, taking the rifle with him. 

He held it up with ease, peering through the scope again as Rachel remained on the blanket, looking up at him.

"Hope you enjoyed your two minutes, lounging like a lazy cat." He held out his right hand to her, which she took, and he pulled her up with ease, while holding the rifle in his left hand. "Ok, new challenge. There is a hanging target. See how many shots you can make dead centre."

Rachel took the rifle from Tim; she knew how much it weighed from what Tim had told her earlier; but knowing and then having that weight in her hands rather than on her back was something else entirely. She had to adjust her grip a few times, but Tim was right behind her, holding her steady.

"Widen your stance a bit more." He said, "use the leg opposite to the finger you have on the trigger to brace yourself."

Rachel moved herself into the required stance, peering through the scope. "The target is moving slightly."

"I know." Tim looked around them. "There is a slight breeze, so you have to be sure you definitely have the shot. Even one millisecond in a slight difference in movement can spell disaster."

"No pressure at all." Sarcasm dripping from her tongue as she waited for the breeze to die down a bit, even though it was feather like caress against her skin and not a hurricane force type wind.

"No pressure." Tim grinned and Rachel definitely heard it. "Now, eyes on your target. Breathe in and out and once you're sure, take the shot."

Rachel watched her target, all of 2,000 metres away, swaying in the light breeze. There was a moment when the air was still, her finger squeezed the trigger and the bullet hit the target right in the centre.

"Gotcha."

Tim clapped her on the back, taking the rifle from her to check.

"You were supposed to tell me the story behind the 'no shooting each other' rule. She reminded him, accepting the rifle when he gave it back to her for another shot.

"Yeah," Tim laid down on the blanket, bringing down the bill of his cap to cover his eyes from the sun. "A few years-"

"What are you doing?' Rachel asked, when she noticed that Tim was no longer standing beside her but laying down. She glanced down at him, the rifle hanging at her side, her other hand balled on her hip. 

"I was about to tell a story before I was interrupted. Why aren't you shooting?" He raised the bill of his cap to peer up at Rachel who was looking down at him. 

"Aren't you going to practice?"

Tim gave her a too self-assured look. "I can hit all those targets in my sleep." 

"Cocky bastard," Rachel muttered under her breath, taking aim once again.

"Now, as I was saying,” the story started again, “a few years back, a husband and wife, along with the wife's sister came here." He paused hearing the first click and then the second click of the trigger. The shot rang out and Rachel chambered another round.

"The wife and her sister were an avid competitive shooters." Tim's voice carried on, as Rachel aimed again at the target. "So, as my friend tells it, the husband was cheating on his wife, and while the wife completely was completely unaware, the sister knew. She held the husband at gunpoint and had him confess to it all." A shot rang out and he smiled. "She then gave him a warning shot in his upper thigh not to do it again."

Rachel hit her target again, and turned a look of disbelief on Tim. "She fired a _warning_ shot, in his _thigh_." She snorted at the absurdity of it all. "Sound like my kinda girl."

"Hence the rule: no shooting each other." 

"Well, I am sure he learnt his lesson."

Tim smirked up at her. "Not to cheat on his spouse?"

"Not to marry someone who has siblings.”

He cocked his head, looking at her. “Who’re those guys in the photo with you?”

“I was wondering when you were going to bring that up.” Rachel looked in the direction of where the targets were; unable to see anything with the naked eye. “They are the closest I have to siblings since Shawnee’s death.” She elaborated, pausing as she always did, any time she had to mention the death of her sister. “They are my brothers.”

Tim watched her, he recalled the pain of losing Mark; his spotter, his brother. He may not have grown up with him, or have been blood, but they shared an unbreakable bond. He felt Rachel’s pain. In part comfort and support, he awkwardly patted her ankle from where he laid.

The moment was weighing on them. Gone was the carefree spirit, and Tim wanted to kick himself for being so nosy. He wanted that back. He wanted Rachel’s laugh and smile to come back.

As if hearing his thoughts, Rachel spoke. “Are you going to practice some more?" 

Tim lazily flopped his hand and Rachel gently situated the rifle back on its bipod sitting down beside Tim. The shooting range was still quiet; it was only them there. The day was warm, even with the slight breeze and shaded area Tim had found for them. 

"This was fun." Rachel commented, speaking again when Tim had peeked out from under his cap. "Thank you."

He graced her with a genuine smile. "Anytime. Better to do this than have you throw coffee on Raylan."

Rachel smacked him in his side, "you suggested that." She giggled. "I never knew Raylan's voice could go that high."

Tim cackled and Rachel thought to herself that she had never heard him laugh so loud and carefree. The ex-Army Ranger sniper was one to provide nothing by flat, bored, unimpressed and menacing looks and a dead dry tone; but nothing that remotely suggested he was feeling joy. 

"I think I had fallen asleep that day with my eyes open while staring at my computer." Tim admitted. "Almost drew my gun when he started screaming." He widened his eyes, a look of horror on his face. "Those screams will forever haunt my dreams." 

"He's never going to live that down." Rachel pointed out.

"Not as long as we are alive." Tim agreed, the two of them sharing an evil smile.

"So, what now?" Rachel looked to the gun and back to Tim, who sat up, folding his legs in front of him, Buddha style. 

"Now," he drawled, "you're going to break down the rifle and pack it up."

Rachel took back up the rifle, "you sure you want me doing this?" She asked, even though she made no move to try and pass it off to him.

"Yeah. Just follow my instructions."

Tim guided Rachel in breaking down the rifle, something she enjoyed immensely.

"Wow," he drawled, pointedly looking at his watch. "Took you all of 2 minutes 38 seconds to dismantle it." He stood, stretching his muscles.

Rachel flipped him off, as she packed up the pieces. "So, what now?"

"We go back to my place, order Chinese, and I eat while you clean the rifle." He took the case from her, slinging it over his back as Rachel shook out the blanket, packed it away in the backpack and tugged the straps over her shoulders.

"Do I get at eat as well?"

"Only if you do a good job of cleaning."

Rachel hip checked him as they walked off, going back the same way they came. "Gee, thanks."

Tim slung his arm around Rachel's shoulder, pulling her closer into his side. "Gotta make you work for it. Can't go spoiling you."

The two friends laughed, nudging each other as they walked back to the SUV.

* * *

**Two Weeks Later**

"You wanted action!" Tim yelled from where he was crouched behind a wooden crate, gun in hand and ready to put holes in their shooters. "Well, you got it!"

"Shut up Tim!" Rachel shouted back, popping up from her spot of safety to fire off a few rounds of her own, one of which hit her target right between his eyes.

Tim whooped when he saw the kill. "I am a great teacher!"

"And humble too!" Rachel ducked to avoid some bullets headed her way.

"What are we talking about?!" Raylan shouted from where he was taking cover behind Tim's prized SUV, which was currently being shot to hell. 

"Throwing hot coffee on your pants crotch!" Rachel answered his question and Tim cackled like the Wick Witch of the West, the sound of gunshots echoing around them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I googled the sniper rifles Tim used in Justified during the different seasons.
> 
> I do not know if Rachel has ever handled a sniper rifle. But in this fic, Tim gives her a crash course in how a sniper should properly shoot using a sniper rifle.


	9. Loyalty (Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim’s loyalty is to his owner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, the term 'owner' in the summary does not mean that Rachel owns Tim. I just liked that it sounded a lot more "dangerous" than the other summaries I came up with. 
> 
> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

Thanks to Raylan's colossal fuck up, of having Ava Crowder drive escape in his vehicle and in the process losing ten million dollars in cold hard cash during Rachel's time as interim Chief, she lost the Lexington office. But thanks to Art pulling strings with the higher ups, she was made Chief of the Memphis office.

It was just as small as the Lexington Office, but her reputation of being straight lace and getting shit done, not to mention capturing some of their most wanted fugitives had preceded her and Rachel was welcomed with awe. However, she was quite aware that she was still being watched. 

She remained in contact with Art, Raylan, Tim, even Nelson. But every time she spoke to Tim, she felt as if something was missing once the call ended. Two Marshals could not leave the same field office simultaneously; there was an obligatory waiting period of six months between each transfer. But Tim never hinted that he wanted to transfer, and Rachel never asked him to come.

That is why, one cold, wet morning in February Rachel was shocked to enter her office, and see Tim sitting at her desk, his feet up on the edge of the desk crossed at the ankles, looking as lazy as a dog sunning in the summer sun. His grin just as lazy.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you," Rachel dropped her bag in the corner chair and rounded the desk, to hug Tim as he rose to stand. "But what are you doing here?"

"I am starting here today." Tim said, easy as pie. 

Rachel stepped back to look at him properly. "What?"

"I transferred here." He held up what were his transfer papers and Rachel grabbed them. 

Her eyes moved rapidly over the text. "I wasn't made aware of this." She looked up at him. "And it has not been six months since I left."

"It has been three months, three weeks, six days and five hours since you left." Tim rattled off, distracted by the snow globe paperweight Rachel had on her desk. 

"How is this even possible? I thought the Lexington Office would have given you a fight." Rachel was still shocked by the news. "You are one of their best Marshals-"

 _"Was._ " Tim corrected.

"-not to mention," she continued speaking, "you wanted to transfer _here_ , where you would be my subordinate. That should have caused problems."

Tim looked at her, his stare pinning her with a laser type intensity that she had only seen him use on criminals he wanted to intimidate and break.

"They did give me a fight. I had those papers ready to submit the moment you got this office. I sent them in the day after you left."

Rachel was stunned to hear that. "Why didn't I hear anything about this? Why didn't you tell me?"

Tim shrugged, stalling by slowly walking around the office, that he knew was the same size as Art's old one. "You were just starting here, didn't want to give you more to worry about." Having circled the entire room, Tim dropped himself in one of the visitor's chairs. "Not to mention, they did give me hell, saying that I was their _only sniper_." His usually unreadable face twisted with disgust.

"I remember how they all thought I was a powder keg, ready to explode without notice. Probably still am, but I wanted out." He shrugged as if that admission was not a big deal.

"Then if you wanted out, why come here?"

"I wanted out because _you_ _left_."

That admission had Rachel reeling.

"My loyalty was never to them, but to you and only you." Tim said, completely aware of how dangerous his words were. "You trained me, when no one else would so much as look at me. I am no one else's hunting dog but yours."

"Shit, Tim."

"My loyalty cannot be bought and not a lot of people have it. But you earned it that first day and it has been yours since then." He licked his lips, considering his next words and looked her dead in her eyes. "I am your sniper. Tell me where and who to point my rifle at and I will, no questions asked."

His words rang out like a gunshot in the small office. Sharp and deadly, hitting its target with precision.

Rachel sighed; she had the loyalty of one of the most dangerous men she had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

"Well,” she slapped the papers down on her desk, aiming a smile in Tim’s direction. “Thanks to these official transfer papers, I can do nothing else, but welcome you to the Memphis Marshal's Field Office Deputy U.S. Marshal Tim Gutterson."

Tim's smile was dangerous. "Thank you, ma’am."

"I probably should mention, that I asked if they would rather lose a good Marshal entirely or approve his transfer request.” He looked up at Rachel from beneath his eye lashes. “I may have also threatened that it would be bad for them if I were to ever switch teams.” Tim’s grin was that of the devil. “I would make a great criminal, with my skills and knowledge of the law."

Rachel laughed. "Jesus Christ Tim, good thing for us you got this transfer though."

She smirked at him, the gleam in Tim’s killer blue eyes even more prominent.

"We're gonna rule this place, aren't we?"

"That we are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was attempting to capture just how dangerous Tim is, and that his loyalty is not just to anyone. 
> 
> In addition, if Rachel ever left the Lexington office, I would like to believe that Tim would go with her.


	10. Black Gold (Rachel, Tim & Raylan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do not mess with Rachel's coffee.
> 
> Raylan learned the hard way.
> 
> Tim watched it all unfold with amusement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

It had been a tedious morning for Rachel, with her mother calling about Nick starting another fight at school. Then getting a flat tyre on the way to a three-hour stake-out. The icing on cake, was the call she received just twenty minutes ago from a nervous sounding rookie deputy sheriff, informing Rachel that the same man whose former girlfriend’s trailer she was staking-out, had been in their custody from the previous night, but there was miscommunication in office, and they all thought she had been informed.

She hung up without a word, and drove back to the Marshal's office, intending on leaving once she had filed her report. The only thing saving the day, was the coffee Tim had texted her about, awaiting her return on his desk.

Rachel flung open the doors, and marched straight to Tim's desk, expecting reheated black gold to be waiting for her. 

"I told Raylan not to drink it." Was what she got upon arriving at Tim's desk, the sniper eyes reading something on his computer screen.

A sudden hush befell the entire office and Rachel became quite aware of eyes on her. Slowly she turned, all the eyes that were staring at her, suddenly averted, finding more important things to hold their attention. Rachel looked back at Tim who had an expectant look on his face.

"What?' She snapped.

He shrugged, "nothing. Just waiting on you to go a tear Raylan a new asshole, like how you tore Jameson a new one last year."

Rachel's glare in that moment could have rivalled the fires of hell. A slow knowing smile spread across Tim's face.

"There it is." He drawled. "Can't say I didn't warn him to keep his paws off it." Tim leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. "This is gonna be worth it."

She gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Oh, you want to see an 'angry black woman'." Rachel spat nastily, so much so that Tim's smile lost some of its glee. 

"That is not what I-"

"Go die in a ditch Tim." She spun on her heels, walking back to her desk, not seeing Tim's hurt look. 

Sitting down and glaring at her computer screen as it booted up, Rachel knew that what she had just said to not only her junior, but someone she considered family, was for a lack of a better term, downright horrible. It had been a hair-tearing out morning, and she was coffee deprived, having had none since the previous day. However, she knew that did not give her the right to be mean. With a roll of her eyes, Rachel was about to go back over and apologise to Tim when none other than Raylan 'Coffee Thief' Givens walked in.

He swaggered pass her desk with a 'good afternoon Rachel' dropped his hat on his desk and continued on into Art's office, with a wave to Tim, who barely acknowledged him.

Being a black female in an environment dominated by a white male population, who stilled lived in the 40's and 50's, Rachel had to be a strait-laced, by the book U.S. Marshal. However, that did not mean she did not have a petty side.

Raylan had been warned that it was Rachel's coffee and he still went ahead and drank it. Well that blatant disrespect just would not stand. Without a second thought, as soon as the door to Art' office closed behind Raylan, Rachel swiftly rose from her seat and grabbed his hat.

Everyone in the office, watched in horrified fascination, as Rachel took the prized cowboy hat. Looking from her to where Raylan was again getting reamed by Art, back to Rachel whose back was seeing disappearing through the office glass doors. Rachel's blue-eyed sniper smirked as he watched her leave, no idea where she was going or what she was going to do with the hat; but he would sit back and enjoy the show.

Rachel was back at her desk, long before Raylan was out of Art's office. Her eyes directly on her computer, a large cup of cappuccino with five shots of espresso, sitting on her desk. However, she and everyone else in the office was mindful of the moment Raylan realised that his hat was missing.

He stood looking at his desk, a perplexed expression on his face. Slowly, Raylan moved around his desk, eyes on the floor thinking it had fallen. When he did not see his famous hat, his face looked even more confused.

Tim snickered and Raylan's eyes snapped to him, but the sniper had his eyes on his computer watching YouTube videos of dogs and cats falling into pools.

"Hey, Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"You seen my hat?"

"Gimme a sec, lemme check the GPS." He replied in an uninterested tone, his eyes never leaving the computer screen.

"Grow up Tim."

"That would mean leaving _Neverland_."

Raylan gave up on getting any help from Tim, turning instead to the most mature Marshal in the entire Lexington office, aside from Art. Rachel was typing away on her keyboard, her eyes never leaving the screen and Raylan would admit that he found that skill fascinating.

"Hey Rachel?"

Rachel paused her typing, to take a long drink of her coffee, to the point that even Tim looked over at her, thinking she was going to finish it in one go.

"Hmmm?" She barely responded, replacing the cup in its place.

"You seen my hat?"

"Nope." Rachel was flippant, already back to her typing, and Tim hid a grin behind his hand.

Raylan looked distressed over the loss of his hat. He was running his hand through his hair, and he was trying to retain a cool demeanour, but Tim’s trained eyes could, see the frantic way in which Raylan’s eyes were darting around the room, searching for his precious hat. Tim could also see the small evil satisfied smile on Rachel's face.

Rachel finally done with her report, went to Art and a short while later she returned packed up her desk and was out the office in less than two minutes. Tim just held down the power button on his CPU, not bothering to shut it down properly and was out of his seat. 

"I'm sure it will turn up sooner or later." He said to a dejected looking Raylan, not slowing down to hear what the man had to say. Tim took the stairs two at a time, down to the Marshal's entrance and out into the parking lot. He got into his SUV, destination in mind, but making a stop first. 

Half an hour later, he was standing in front of a blue door, Apartment 307. He knocked rhythmically three times and the door opened, revealing Rachel already bare feet, with her hair down, wearing only her button up shirt and a pair of soft cotton lounge shorts.

Tim leaned against the doorway, eyeing Rachel appreciatively. "Evenin' ma'am." He grinned and help up the cappuccino with five shots of espresso he got for Rachel as an apology for not saving her first cup from Raylan's clutches. 

Rachel gave him a small smile in return, moving aside to allow him in. Tim would never get tired of Rachel's apartment. Aside from Art, no one else knew where she lived and Tim felt honoured to not only having that knowledge, but also being welcomed to be there. Walking in he headed straight for the kitchen only to stop short when the saw the takeout bags on the counter.

"I was going to call you over for dinner." Rachel said as she slipped by him, to retrieve the food from the bags. "As an apology for what I said earlier." She had stopped at his favourite diner and gotten him his usual order of a cheeseburger, cheese fries and a large vanilla milkshake. 

Tim waved her off. "Water under the bridge." 

They took the food and coffee to the living room, sitting crossed leg on the floor on either side of the centre table eating. It was quiet for a few minutes before Rachel spoke.

"I truly am sorry Tim. It had been a rather shitty morning and coming back to hear that Raylan fucking drank my coffee just made me snap."

Tim smirked, "it's ok Rach. I really didn't do much to stop him when he grabbed it up."

"I am sure you just wanted to see me tear into him."

"I did. But you grabbing his hat was definitely more evilly ingenious." 

Rachel's smile was malevolent, "he looked about ready to tear the office apart for his silly hat."

"Where is it by the way?" Tim twisted, as if expecting to see the hat appear out of thin air. Rachel got up, and went to her room, reappearing with the misappropriated white cowboy hat.

"Wanna take pictures with it and send it to Raylan?" Tim asked, boyish enthusiasm wafting from him. Rachel's answering grin said enough. 

He took the hat from Rachel, smiling as he placed the misappropriated white cowboy hat on her head. "Now smile."

They sent the picture of Rachel grinning, Raylan's precious hat atop her head, with the message:

**_Rachel Brooks (5:15 p.m.): 'Do not drink my black gold.'_ **

**_Raylan Givens (5:16 p.m.) 'I am sorry.'_ **


	11. My Idea Of Help From Above... (Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...Is a sniper on the roof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

Tim and Rachel laid flat on the cold, wet ground, a chill in the air thanks to the freezing month of February. They were on a hill, 20 metres away from their target, or in this case, _Rachel's_ target. 

Tim had the target in his rifle's crosshair, as Rachel laid beside him, looking threw a spotting scope. Currently, the target was walking leisurely back and forth across the front porch of the small cabin he was staying at, speaking on the phone, unaware of what was about to befall him.

"Remind me again, of how I got caught up in this?" Tim's voice was bored. He heard an exasperated sigh beside him before a proper response.

"That fucker went too far this time." 

"Yeah, but why am _I_ here?"

"Because I need a sniper, and you are the only one I know." Rachel explained as if it was that simple.

They continued watching through their respective scopes, as their target laughed at whatever the person on the other end of the phone call said.

"I had plans today Rachel."

Rachel did not look at Tim, but he could feel her glare all the same. 

"Your plans were to sleep in until noon." And he could feel her judgement. "You should be thanking me for getting your ass out here in the fresh air."

"Got plenty of fresh air while in the Rangers."

"It didn't do shit for your pale ass complexion." Rachel mumbled. "Not to mention, I am feeding you afterwards."

"You know, for someone who is begging a favour, you sure do have a lot of shit to say."

"I do not beg."

"No,” Tim smirked, “you only command."

"Damn right I do." Rachel was a tiny package of sass that morning, something Tim was finding hard to ignore. 

"Are you going to take the shot now?"

"Yeah." 

Tim had a clear path to their target, he took a breath held it and on releasing it, he gently squeezed the trigger and fired. Their target looked shocked for a moment, thinking he had been shot. Until he realised that he had a bright pink paint splatter right in the middle of his chest. 

Their target looked around wildly and ducked behind the solid railing for cover. He peeked over the railing, and Tim fired another shot hitting the white cowboy hat off his head.

Rachel laughed with evil glee beside him. "Try getting neon green out of that you asshole." She hissed and Tim made a mental note to never cross her.

"Ok, one more and then we pack up." Tim said, lining up another shot as Raylan looked more pissed about his ruined hat that concerned about his safety. He waited until he saw a glimpse of forehead, before taking the killing shot. 

A purple paint ball hit Raylan squarely between his eyes. 

"Time to go." Tim said, packing up the weapon as Rachel continued looking through the spotting scope.

Rachel released a laugh, that Tim could only describe as having been born from the bowels of hell. "It's going to be a bitch for him to get that off his skin and hat."

"Do, I even want to know where you got a fucking high-powered paint gun?" He hoisted the paint rifle unto his left shoulder, helping Rachel up from the ground.

"I know a mechanic." Was the very cryptic reply and Tim made a note to look into this 'mechanic'. 

"Monday is going to be interesting." Rachel walked ahead of Tim with a bounce in her step. 

"What did he even do to you?"

"He spilled my coffee."

"Jesus Christ you are petty."

"And just for that, no sex for a week."

Tim will forever deny that he squawked like a dying chicken upon hearing that.


	12. Having Her Six (Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim will always have his partner's back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

Tim loved it when Rachel would put people, especially men twice her size in their place, whether it be verbally or physically. Currently, he had just watched her kick a guy who towered over even him, squarely between his legs before breezing pass him to enter the house where they got a tip that a known drug smuggling fugitive was hiding out.

No one in the office had wanted to touch Tim when he first arrived. They had already known about him; the ex-Army Ranger sniper. They thought him cold and detached. And while he would admit that he was detached, he was definitely not cold. Many of his army buddies can attest to leeching heat from him on cold nights. His spotter all but melding to his side, on cold nights on the side of mountains.

No one would touch him except, for the 5'2" of cool bad-assery who walked into the office, late afternoon of Tim's first day, her left fist a mess from knocking out a drunk fugitive in one go, took one look at Tim and declared loudly that she would train him.

Tim watched as she ignored the various shocked looks from her fellow Marshals as she settled in to write her report. He decided then and there that he would kill for her, die for her and always have her back.

Again, he sat back as Rachel literally dragged their fugitive by his ankles out from the doggy door, through which he was trying to escape. She slapped the cuffs on him _tightly_ and led him out of the barn house, and if the guy "accidentally" walked into a few walls on the way out, well Tim thinks he should have learned to walk before trying to run.


	13. Family No Matter What (Rachel, Jimmy & Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel had no idea whether to murder Jimmy or pretend that she did not know him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3rd fic in 'Don't Ask. Don't Tell.
> 
> Writing prompt from Instagram. - "Whatever happens, whoever comes knocking, I have been here for at least an hour.”
> 
> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

Rachel had her gun up and pointed at the entrance to her living room as soon as she heard the front door slam open and close, when a familiar voice called out.

“Rach, whatever happens, whoever comes knocking, I have been here for at least an hour.”

She lowered the gun and swore softly as Jimmy Tolan came into her line of sight, dropping himself down in the armchair across from her, a shy boyish grin on his face. Rachel gave him an unimpressed look.

“What did you do now?”

Jimmy stalled in answering by removing his jacket, his shoes were already off and left by the entrance, remembering Rachel’s rule of: ‘no shoes in the house’.

“Jimmy.” Rachel used her _I-am-a-US-Marshal-do-not-fuck-with-me_ voice.

“I may have thrown rotten eggs at Tim’s car.” He muttered, so low that Rachel barely heard.

“You _what?!”_ Jimmy sunk low in his seat as Rachel stared at him as if he had done gone and lost his damn mind. “You threw rotten eggs at _Tim Gutterson_ , _my_ Tim Gutterson, ex-Army Ranger _sniper_ , _that_ Tim Gutterson vehicle.”

“Yes.” Jimmy answered. “ _That_ Tim Gutterson.”

Rachel took a breath, silently counting to ten in English, French, Spanish and German, so as not to murder Jimmy right then and there.

“ _Why?”_ She could not stress the word enough. “Why would you do that? Tim loves that truck more than he loves himself.”

Jimmy nodded at that last part, “exactly. And I am sure he respects _it_ more than _you_.”

“I think I am missing something here.” She replayed their entire conversation in her head. “Where’d you get that he respects his truck more than me?”

“Remember last week when you both came by Boyd’s place.”

Rachel had no idea what that had to do with the present situation but nodded. “I do.”

“And you remember giving Tim an order.”

“Yeah.” The word was dragged out.” What are you getting at here?”

“I am getting there.” Jimmy scowled at her for interrupting. “Well, what you did not see was his facial expression.” Jimmy got up and moved around the chair where he would have space to move.

“So, you told him to go call in the name Boyd gave you, and as he was leaving Tim said, ‘yes ma’am’ and gave you a look like this.”

Rachel watched as Jimmy swaggered like Tim and the look on his face was one of a downright lustful leer. She forgot how good he was at imitating people.

“Huh,” Rachel was at a lost.

Jimmy sat back down, gesticulating wildly, “that is why I did what I did. I had to avenge your honour.”

“My honour?”

“Yes! He’s your junior and he looked at you as if you were water and he was a thirsty man in the desert.” He had a self-satisfied smirk in place, “I could not just let that pass.”

Rachel rubbed her temples, feeling a 'Jimmy' sized headache forming and not needing to know _how_ Tim ever looked at her. “And, now why if someone, more than likely Tim comes knocking at my front door, I am to say that you have been here for the past hour?”

Jimmy looked away, his eyes nervously darting around the room. A light blush appearing on his cheeks as he scratched the back of his neck.

“Jimmy, why am I going to have to deal with an enraged, murderous ex-Army Ranger sniper?”

“He may have caught me at the end and yelled down. I high tailed it as soon as I heard the shouting. But I swear, I did not leave any evidence that it was me.” Jimmy was quick to reassure her. “And I used gloves when I was throwing the eggs, so no fingerprints.” He smiled his ‘good boy’ smile that Rachel used to see when he was younger and much sweeter.

“Besides, he lives on the fourth floor, could he have seen anything?” He did not sound so sure about that, even as he gave Rachel a cocky smirk.

Rachel rolled her eyes upwards, as If asking for help from a higher power. Jimmy was so dead and now, she had to plan a funeral for his dumbass.

“Hey, you got any food?”

She made a hand gesture for Jimmy to go look for himself. Giving herself a minute, Rachel got up and followed him to the kitchen, watching as he made himself a sandwich.

“Would you like one as well?” He asked, ever so considerate and kind.

“No, thank you. Jimmy,” Rachel sighed, “Tim was a sniper for eight years. He’s had to kill people in various weather conditions, day and night, so I am assuming, even from the balcony of his fourth-floor apartment, he could see that it was you.”

Jimmy looked at her as if Rachel had just told him that she had killed his puppy and then ran over it. “Well shit. I am dead.”

Rachel smiled and shook her head. Jimmy had cleaned up after himself and settled in at the bar counter so eat when there were three strong, no nonsense knocks on the front door. They both looked in the direction where the knocking came from, before looking back at each other. They both knew who was on the other side of the door.

“I think a part of my soul just died and my body is to follow.”

Rachel rolled her eyes at the dramatics. “Stop being a little drama king and eat your sandwich.”

He smiled at her, “ _yes, ma’am_ ”, his voice sounding like Tim's.

Rachel stared at him for a moment, “don’t ever do that again.”

The knocking became more forceful and continuous, and Rachel knew Jimmy was in for a world of hurt, if the sniper got his hands on him.

“Continue banging on my door like that I will blow a hole through you.” She called out; the promise clear in her voice.

The knocking stopped immediately.

“That’s more like it.” Rachel flung open the door, revealing a too calm Tim Gutterson. “To what do I owe the pleasure of you banging on my door this time of night Tim?” A pleasant smile on her face.

Tim’s eyes moved pass Rachel, to look over shoulder down the hallway. There was nothing and no one to see. “Where is he?”

She glanced behind him and noticed the lack of a vehicle parked at the sidewalk in front of her house. “Where is who?”

“Jimmy Tolan.”

Rachel was impressed, he said the name as if he was using it as target practice. “Jimmy Tolan? As in _my_ Jimmy Tolan? _That_ Jimmy Tolan?”

“I am not playing this game. Where is he?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Rachel was happy for her unbreakable poker face. “What did Jimmy do?”

Tim took a deep breath. “He egged my just washed SUV with rotten eggs.” He said, and Rachel wondered how one man could look so close to murder, and at the same time speak with such calm.

“How are you so sure it was him?

“I _saw_ him with my own two eyes Rachel.” He said from between clenched teeth. “The little shit ran as soon as I called out to him. But I knew it was him. My eyesight ain’t 20/20 for nothin’.”

Rachel sighed, inwardly cursing Jimmy for getting her mixed up in his juvenile shit and for bringing a homicidal sniper to her doorstep on a Friday night.

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but you may want to get your vision checked.” Rachel watched as Tim’s expression became slightly bewildered. “Jimmy has been with me since I got home.” She left it at that. Didn’t add anything to it. First rule of lying: do not give too much information; keep it short and sweet.

Tim called her out on her shit. “Bullshit.”

“Come in,” she stepped to the side, “and see for yourself. He’s been eating me out of house and home.”

Tim stepped inside, his eyes trained on Rachel, still suspecting her words to be a lie. He followed Rachel as she led him through the hallway and into the kitchen where he saw the little menace who he knew egged his car, sitting at the bar counter, stuffing his face with a sandwich. Jimmy simply raised an eyebrow when he caught sight of them, and Tim’s fist itched to knock him from his stool.

“Was wonderin’ what was taking so long.” Jimmy commented, nonchalantly going back to his sandwich.

Tim stood on the other side of the counter, glaring at him. Rachel situated herself at the small breakfast table, giving her a clear view of both men, watching how the situation was going to unfold.

“You’re really just going to sit there, stuffing your hole and pretend as if you do not know why I am here.”

Jimmy shrugged; no fucks given about how precarious the current situation was. “Ain’t pretending. I got no idea why you’re at my sister’s house.” He perked up after a few seconds, looking as if he was having a ‘light bulb’ moment.

“Wait,” he slowly turned to look at Rachel who had an eyebrow raised. “Are you and my sister having an illicit love affair?” He grinned conspiratorially, as Rachel rolled her eyes and Tim stared hard at him.

“Tim here says that you egged his SUV.” Rachel wondered how long they could keep this ruse going. “Something you want to tell me? You got a twin or some mutant power?"

Jimmy laughed, “that’s what I would to know too.” He looked Tim dead in his eyes and lied. “I have been where since Rachel got home,” he checked his watch, “which is almost three hours ago. So, couldn’t have been me.”

Rachel watched as Tim removed his hands from his hips, to rest them on the bar counter, as he menacingly leaned in closer to Jimmy, who stared back with an amused smile on his face.

“You little shit.” He snarled. “I _know_ you fucking messed with my car. I _saw_ _you_.”

Jimmy’s smile transformed into a smirk. “You might wanna get your eyes checked Marshal. I have been here all evening.”

Tim looked sharply at Rachel, receiving the same cool look he got upon his arrival. “This asshole fucked with my car. You and I both know it.” Tim’s voice was low and dangerous. Rachel has heard it like that many times, when he decides that just standing and looking menacing was not enough for the criminals they dealt with. Usually it was followed up with an act of violence Tim Gutterson style, which meant efficient and deadly.

Jimmy had royally fucked himself by going after Tim’s car, because according to Jimmy, Tim looked at her as a woman and not as a senior co-worker. Still, what kind of older sister would she be if she didn’t have her little brother’s back.

“Tim,” Rachel’s voice, was calm and cool, and Tim immediately bristled at her tone. “Jimmy has been here since I got home. I do not know who in this county, who knows who you are, would dare to mess with your car.”

“someone with a death wish.” Tim looked pointedly at Jimmy who was now lazily drinking his beverage.

Rachel was definitely going to murder Jimmy. “With that being said, it could not have been Jimmy. There are a lot of guys who look like him. You know this Tim. Hell, someone could mistake you for him in the night, considering you’re both the same height and if you were to cut your hair.”

Both Tim and Jimmy gave her unimpressed looks.

Tim smirked dangerously, “please, don’t ever insult me like that again, seeing as how _I know_ that I am eleven kinds of fuckable, and I was _blowing_ the heads off Taliban while junior here," he pointed at Jimmy with his thumb, "was still in diapers.”

Jimmy flipped Tim off, a dangerous smirk of his own. “Is that a threat Deputy Marshal Gutterson?”

He made Tim’s name and title sound like an insult. And Rachel resigned herself to having to part a fight in the next few minutes.

Rachel got up out of her seat when Tim took a step around the kitchen island, Jimmy’s eyes glittering with unabashed glee.

“Tim, this is where you leave.” Rachel’s voice held no room for any argument, meeting Tim’s hard stare head on; not backing down.

Tim’s eyes cut back to Jimmy. “I’ll be seein’ you Tolan.” The deadly intent was heard in his words. “See ya’ at work Rachel.” He turned on his heel, swaggering out of the kitchen.

Rachel followed, checking that he had actually left, rounding on Jimmy when he came back into the living room. “I hope you are aware of the can of complete fuckery you have opened with your little immature stunt.”

Jimmy looked none too bothered by the threat from a deadly US Marshal and or his sister’s ire.

“Nothing has been opened.” He reclaimed his seat from earlier, slouching down and closing his eyes. “He can’t prove anything. And with you backing my word, he can’t do shit.”

“Oh?” Rachel’s tone made Jimmy look at her. “I work with him and believe when I say he can do _a lot_.” Jimmy actually looked a bit fearful at her words and she sighed. “I will make sure that he does not do anything. Just stay clear of him and his property from now on.” 

“I can do that.”

“Promise me Jimmy.”

“Shit! Fine, I promise to stay away Deputy Asshole and his shit.” Jimmy pouted.

With his arms folded tightly across his chest and Rachel was reminded that, Jimmy was still transitioning from being a teenager to an adult. He was the baby of the family; being all of 12 years younger than her and their siblings. He was still prone to doing stupid shit, even if it was in defense of his sister.

“Can I stay here tonight?” He looked up at her and Rachel was transported back to a time, when a blue eyed little 4-year-old, cherub face boy asked shyly if he could sleep with her because he was scared of the thunder.

She smiled, at the memory. “You scared that Tim is laying in wait for you?”

“Shitless.” Jimmy confirmed.

Rachel laughed, shaking her head. “’Course you can. Guest bedroom is made up.”

Jimmy got up, squeezing Rachel’s arm gently as he passed her, heading up the stairs. “Thanks Rach.”

“Anytime.”

“Just don’t tell dad?” His voice flowed down to her.

“ _Definitely_ don’t tell dad.”


	14. Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This (Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These dreams haunt my waking moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Real life had me under its control; still does actually. It may another few months until I can add more to this and my other works. 
> 
> Title: Sweet Dreams by Eurythmics
> 
> Italics - dreams
> 
> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

_"Spread your legs."_

_A deep voice softly drawled the command and Rachel did so, feeling as sure, strong hands mapped from her ankles to her waist, as a solid weight settled between her spread legs. Rachel arched her back, wanting to feel the body that was hovering over hers and was reward when she felt a strong body press her down into the bed._

_Rachel's arms wrapped around her partner's back. Her fingers running over long healed scars. Warm lips trailed kissed from her temple, to her cheek, down her jaw, continuing down her neck to her collar bone, where teeth made their mark in her skin. Rachel moaned, tightening her legs, feeling her mystery man twitch between them, her core wet and aching for something to fill it._

_"I want to feel you Rachel." The voice whispered in the dark of the room. "I want to be inside you."_

_The mystery man who was sharing her bed, who she felt safe with, sat back on his heels with Rachel legs bracketing his on either side. She took the opportunity to run her hands down a set of defined abs, until they were caught and pressed down to the bed on either side of her head._

_"Keep 'em there." Was the whispered order upon her lips._

_She did so, arching into the scorching hot touch as his fingers left a trail of fire down her body. Rachel watched as much as she could in the dark, feeling more than seeing when the mystery man took himself in hand and lined up with her. She held her as he breached her; his hard-thick length stretching her deliciously._

_Rachel moaned, her back arching clear off the bed and her bed partner laughed low in his throat._

_"Like that?"_

_"huh-uh." All words having evade her._

_"You're gonna like this even more._

_Rachel could only hold on as he set a fast punishing pace. He was hitting her spot dead on, over and over. She was climbing a peak she would soon fall from, but didn't care, as long as her guy kept doing what he was doing. Rachel clawed at his back, his arms in ecstasy, in encouragement._

_With each thrust, he would have pushed her up the bed, if not for the tight grip he had on her hips. Rachel could feel her orgasm inching closer and closer._

_"Don't stop. Please, don't stop." She pleaded, begged. Rachel never begged. Not with her first boyfriend in college, not with Joe. So, who was this man that had her begging?_

_The man smiled wickedly against her lips. "Yes, ma'am." His voice was familiar, as were those words and the way they were drawled in an accent she knew all too well._

_Rachel opened her eyes to see Tim grinning down at her, his hair a mess, hanging down in his eyes._

********

Rachel shot up out of her sleep, soaked in sweat, she flipped on her bedside lap, to confirm that she alone was in her bed. The sheets were a tangled mess around her legs, as were her clothes. Her heart rate slowly calmed and that is when her dream came hurling at her full force. 

She recalled the strength of the body between her legs, as it thrusted into her. The sinful voice in her ear, whispering all her dirty fantasies. Rachel felt her face warm as she recalled feeling the cold steel of dog tags as they rested between the valley of her breasts, warming from the heat of her skin. Her core was still aching for that invisible force, and Rachel almost died from mortification there in her own room, upon realising that she had actually come from a dream, _untouched_.

"Shit."

The dream was as vivid as they come. She could not believe she had a sex dream about her co-worker; someone she considered a close friend. It was only a few more hours until she had to get ready for work. Throwing off the covers, Rachel headed to her bathroom, intending to have a quick cold shower, to wash the sweat from her body and to cool down. Hoping that she would forget all about the dream, and how realistic it seemed, feeling Tim's weight between her legs, feeling his warm skin beneath her fingers. And she did for a while; or at least until she got to work.

* * *

Rachel's head snapped up when she heard the sinful voice from her dream speak right next to her.

"You look like shit." Tim said in lieu of a more appropriate greeting, placing Rachel's coffee order on her desk. 

She cleared her throat, taking a sip of the coffee to moisten her mouth and to stall answering the starring person of her wet dream. It had been going well, arriving to work before Tim and getting buried in unwritten reports. The dreams from before that had been pushed to the back of her mind, came rushing to the fore-front when he appeared before her, looking good in his fitted black jeans, white dress shirt, navy blue sweater and black boots. And those goddamn blue eyes, that Rachel swore were illegal in a few states.

"Didn't sleep well last night." Rachel turned her eyes back to her computer screen, a clear dismissal. However, Tim stood there for a few more seconds, scrutinizing her before going to his own desk. 

There was a lot of paperwork that kept Rachel busy that day, however, she was hyper aware of Tim's every move within the office. Her eyes burned holes in him as she watched him scan _$240,000.00_ worth of out of circulation _$100.00_ bills. His stance was loose, and Rachel could not resist having her eyes travel the length of his body numerous times. Admiring the fact that he housed some dangerous physical power within his body.

She witnessed him once, knocking out a guy in one go who was twice his weight and a whole lot taller than them. People tended to overlook Tim, until they heard _where_ he was before joining the US Marshals. They saw him as another mild-mannered country boy; but Rachel knew he was anything but. From the first time she read his file, before meeting him, she knew he was someone to pay close attention to and to never underestimate. 

Tim must have felt eyes on him, for he turned around and even though Rachel was once again focused on her computer screen, she could see from her periphery that he was looking at her. He stared at her for a few seconds before turning back to his task at hand and Rachel released the breath she was unintentionally holding. 

"Get it together Rachel." She softly chided herself, as her eyes returned once again to Tim's form. That damn dream would not leave her in peace. Rachel could count on one hand the number of times she had ever hugged Tim, which was _once_ , so she had no idea what he would feel like between her legs or on top of her. The dream was too realistic for her liking and she hoped to high hell, it was just a one off.

Her eyes were once again glued to her computer screen as Tim made his way over to her desk. A black duffel bag slung over his shoulder housing the money.

Tim's expression was as ever unreadable. "You ever feel as if someone is watching you?"

"Nope." Rachel was doing her damn hardest not to look at him; willing him to continue on wherever he was going.

"Someone has been burning holes through me." Tim's eyes looked around the office. His eyes not seeing anything or anyone out of the ordinary. "You busy?"

Rachel's answer was to signal with her hand at the many open file folders on her desk. 

"Right." Tim left without another word, Rachel suspected on a trip down to the lower bowels of the courthouse, with the money. 

Rachel hated the way she was behaving, but it was a precarious situation. Sure, she has had dreams about people she works with before, but she was not attracted to them and the dreams sure as hell were not _sex dreams_. No matter how much she tried to smother thoughts about the dream and Tim, they kept returning. Pushing herself away from her desk, Rachel decided that a walk and some fresh air would do her good. Help clear her mind. 

"Rachel." Art called out as soon as she had rounded her desk.

"Yes, Chief?"

"Can you take these files down to the _Lost Room_?"

That is what they had taken to calling the lower levels of the courthouse where the evidence for closed cases was kept. Rachel silently cursed, Tim was down there, and being down in the _Lost Room_ alone with Tim of all persons would just be asking for trouble.

"Sure." Rachel wanted to slap herself as she accepted the files from Art. She took the stairs, hoping, praying that with the time it took her to get to the lower levels, Tim would have already made it back upstairs to the office. She signed in with Charlie, who allowed her to enter the evidence cage as he went to use the restroom. 

The room was quiet, Rachel's boots echoing on the concrete floor. She left the door to the cage open, an irrational fear that she would get locked in and no one would find her until she was dust and bones. She turned the corner, and there was still no sign of Tim. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Howdy."

Rachel dropped the files and spun around, her hand on her gun to see Tim sitting, hidden behind boxes of evidence playing some sort of game on his phone. She rolled her eyes, her heart rate slowing.

"What the hell are you doing Tim?"

He waved his phone, "trying to pass this level of _Fruit Harvest_." Tim's eyes glanced at her, then at the mess of file folders and papers scattered at her feet. "What are _you_ doing _here_?" 

Rachel bent to gather and reorganize the files, nearly jumping out of her skin when Tim brushed against her, assisting in cleaning up the mess.

"You don't have to help." 

"I made you drop them."

It was fast work with both of them cleaning up, and within seconds, Rachel got the files situated in a filing cabinet. Intent on returning back to the office, or at least somewhere where she was not alone with Tim, Rachel turned around, only to stop short. Tim was blocking _only_ way out, which was a narrowed space and even if Rachel decided to push pass him, it would be a tight squeeze she would definitely touch him. 

"Excuse me, please." Rachel decided to be a polite adult. 

Tim's eyes bored into her and Rachel swore he could see her thoughts. 

"Did I do something to upset you?"

The question caught her off guard. 

"Because if I did, I have no idea what it was." 

Tim had one hand braced on the wall and the other gripping the bars of the cage grill. Rachel could not help it as her eyes tracked the width of his shoulders and how the material of his shirt and sweater pulled across his torso from the stance. 

"You didn't do anything Tim." Rachel sighed, she wanted, _needed_ to get out of here.

He huffed a laugh filled with disbelief. "Really? You have been dismissive towards me the entire day. And snappish."

"I didn't sleep well last night Tim. Everything, and everyone is getting on my nerves today and this," she indicated to him blocking her way out, "is not helping."

Tim did not move, instead deciding to throw down a gauntlet. "You have not looked me in my eyes the entire day."

Rachel lifted her eyes to meet his head on, but instead of diffusing whatever was happening, it only aggravated the situation.

"Something is bothering you Rach." Fucking excellent time for Tim to be so insightful. "You said you didn't sleep well," he continued, ignoring Rachel's annoyed look. "What kept you up? Bad dream?"

Rachel snorted, speaking before her mind could figure out what her mouth was saying. "Quite the opposite." And that right there got Tim's most undivided attention, and Rachel was instantly reminded of how at times, he could be like a dog with a juicy bone.

"So, you had a good dream?" Tim rocked forward, but the placement of his hands kept him where he was. "What was it about?"

"I am not playing this game." Rachel snapped. "Get out of my way Deputy Gutterson."

Tim straightened up at the growled command, his hands falling to his sides as he took a step back out of the narrow opening, allowing space for Rachel to walk through.

"Yes, ma'am."

His voice was flat, and Rachel ignored him as she left the room and him behind her, aware of his eyes on her until she turned the corner out of sight.

* * *

_Rachel was back in the evidence room, with Tim pressing her against the wall. He was lavishing her neck with kisses and bites, which he_ _soothed with his tongue. He had a strong grip on her hips, no doubt leaving bruises. Rachel was moaning, her back arched in pleasure and her breasts pressed against his chest creating a delicious friction._

_Tim's_ _dexterous fingers quickly unbuttoned her blouse, parting it to show the choice underwear she had worn that day, royal blue lace, with the matching panties still covered by her pants. His lips found her collar bone, sucking a mark into her dark skin as he slowly made his way down to the valley of her breasts. He laid a kiss on the mound of both breasts, as his knees hit the ground, kissing the soft smooth skin of her stomach causing her to laugh a little from being ticklish there._

_Rachel opened her eyes, tilting her head down to meet Tim's eyes as he looked up at, his hands on the waist of her pants. With a nod from Rachel, he had her pants open, shoving them down her smooth thighs. Tim dragged his fingertips back up her skin, liking the feeling of her trembling beneath him._

_He kissed his hip bone, resting his forehead on it as he drew abstract patterns on her skin. Rachel drew her fingers through his hair, loving the silky feel and how Tim leaned up into the touch._

_"Tim."_

_Blue eyes looked up into brown as his fingers slid between lace and skin, slowly tugging her underwear down._

**BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!**

_Rachel looked around at the sound._

**BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!**

_"Do you hear that?" She asked, only to startle when she looked down to see that Tim looked hazy and she could no longer feel him against her._ _  
_

********

Rachel's eyes snapped open, the light of dawn barely shining through her bedroom windows. "Fuck my life."

Tim was already at work by the time Rachel walked in and made a beeline to the small kitchenette for another cup of coffee. Having obtained her black gold, Rachel turned around, only to see that Tim was staring hard at her.

"Whatever it is, wait until I have drained this." She lifted her coffee mug, as she made her way to her desk. Tim turned his chair so that he was looking through the glass partition that separated his and Raylan's desks, and directly at Rachel.

"You ok?" He asked, his voice deader than a door nail.

"Just peachy." Rachel's voice terse. She punched the button on her computer. The office was silent, seeing as how no one else was there at 7:30 a.m. on a Friday morning. Just what Rachel needed, an empty office, with the starring person of her sex dreams blatantly staring at her.

"Had another _good_ dream?" Tim asked just as Rachel was taking a drink from her cup. He watched as she choked on the beverage, hurriedly placing the cup back on her desk, so as not to drop it. Tim was unfazed by the glare sent his way by Rachel once she had gotten her coughing under control.

"Hey," Tim spread his hands in placation. "I just want to know what's happening with my friend."

"Nothing. But if you keep irritating your _friend_ , she is going to hurl a ceramic cup at your head."

"You really need to get some sleep."

Thankfully Tim was once again facing his computer and no longer looking at Rachel. Within half an hour the office was buzzing with life. It was another slow day, and Rachel decided to ask Art if she could take the rest of the day off. He offered her Monday as well if she needed it. She had all the intentions of going home and trying to sleep, and she made good on those intentions. That is, until another, much steamier dream featuring Tim has her eyes shooting open to see that dusk had fallen outside her windows.

It was different this time, as Rachel could still feel that ache in her core, and without a hint of hesitation, she had her hand down the waist of her sleep shorts and underwear, rubbing her clit. The first touch was as if lightening had passed through her body. Rachel moaned as her fingers rubbed harder. Her hips swivelled in time with her fingers and when that first wave crashed, it was Tim's name Rachel screamed. She continued pleasuring herself as her orgasm tore through her.

Once the waves had calmed, Rachel collapsed on her bed, breathing hard. The room smelled of sweat and sex and she had to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. She had just pleasured herself to thoughts of her younger co-worker. Then as if fate was still not done messing with her, there was a knock on her apartment door. Washing her hands and face, looking as presentable as she could, after just waking up on a Friday evening, Rachel made her way to the front door, cursing silently when she saw who was on the other side through the peephole. 

She opened the door, the security chain on it not allowing for any ideas of barging in. "What do you want Tim?"

Tim's blue eyes looked her up and down, looked at the chain and then back at her. "Just checking that you are ok."

"I am. Bye now." Her attempt at closing the door was thwarted by Tim pushing his foot between the door and the doorjamb. "Move your foot before I break it." Rachel growled.

"Before or after I break the chain on this door." Tim countered, confident in his abilities.

Rachel knew he could and would do it, so she eased up, letting the door to fall back open as much as the chain would allow. They stared each other down, neither wanting to be the first one to break. Tim took a step forward, leaning his arm against the doorjamb, unintentionally drawing Rachel's attention to the tattoo on the inside of his right wrist. 

"You," Tim's voice brought her attention back to his eyes. "You have been weird the entire week, and you are _never_ weird."

"I am having an off week." She shrugged, "everyone has them." 

Tim shifted again, tilting his head, studying Rachel, peeling back her layers and she did her best not to avert her gaze or fidget. 

"Let me in Rachel." His voice was low, and if Rachel's ear did not deceive her, it held a seductive tone to it.

"What?" Rachel watched as Tim moved his hand, his fingers catching the chain holding her door partly closed. 

"This," he tugged on the chain. "Remove it and let me in."

"No." Was the instant reply to which Tim raised an eyebrow. "I am fine. I don't need you checking up on me." She spat; her words harsh. Blue eyes clashed against brown, but Tim finally relented, stepping back and allowing Rachel to close the door, harder than she intended to.

She heard Tim's voice, muffled through the door. "I am here for when you’re ready to talk."

* * *

The dreams haunted her the entire weekend. Every time she closed her eyes to sleep, Rachel would have vivid dreams of Tim taking her in so many ways, in so many difference places, that she was beyond horny and frustrated upon waking up.

Monday morning rolled around and for the first time in her life, Rachel dreaded going to work. Finally, womaning up, Rachel got out of bed and dressed for work. Even with stopping at her favourite coffee shop, she was still the first in the office. As her computer booted up, Rachel recalled that she needed something from the _Lost Room_ , and made the trip down to the lower levels to retrieve it. Had she known what would have happened ten minutes later, she would have waited longer to go down there or not at all.

The room was quiet and still, Rachel swore she could hear her thoughts echo around her. She made her way back to the section she and Tim were in on Friday, when he started asking too many questions. With an annoyed huff, Rachel bent over, looking through the file box for what she needed. Feeling eyes on her, Rachel straightened up and slowly looked behind her, hand on her gun to see Tim standing again in the narrow walkway, an intense look in his cornflower blue eyes. 

"Not at all creepy Gutterson." She commented, going back to her search, trying to ignore the flashes of her dreams that came back at the sight of him. 

"Mornin'." His ever-dry voice sounded in the room. "How are you doin'?"

Rachel found what she was looking for and pulled it out of the box with a triumphant smirk before responding. "I am good. Got work to do." She turned to leave, and it was a repeat of Thursday, with Tim using his body to block her way out. "Move or you will be moved Tim."

He raised an eyebrow at the threat. "Rather hostile in the early mornin'." 

"And you're rather annoying in the early morning. Move." She made a shooing motion with the file in her hand. 

“Got any proper sleep over the weekend? He ignored her demand. “Or did your dreams keep you awake?” There was no mockery in his voice; just a genuine question.

“I slept.” Rachel lied and Tim knew it instantly from the darkening of his eyes. Those eyes that she saw so many times in her dreams, filled with lust for her.

Tim took a step forward and Rachel cursed herself when she instantly stepped back. “What I don’t understand,” he tilted his head, studying her. “You said they were good dreams-”

“No.” Rachel interrupted him. “I said that they were the exact opposite of bad dreams; doesn’t mean that they are good.”

“So, you’re having dreams that are not bad but at the same time not good.”

Rachel could see those fucking gears turning in his head as he spoke, not gesticulating wildly like he usually do when explaining something.

“And you seem particularly short with _me_.” Tim pointed to himself. “Don’t get me wrong, you seem ready to bite someone’s head off at the drop of a hat for the past week.” He gave her a crooked grin, and Rachel felt something warm pool in her stomach from that look.

“Nelson has been keeping his distance from you. Afraid that it is him you will go nuclear on. But you won’t even look me in the eye.”

Rachel’s narrowed eyes met his. “Looking right at you Gutterson.”

“Annnnd,” he drawled, “that is another thing you have been doing. Calling me ‘Gutterson’.”

“That’s your name.”

“No, you never call me by last name. Not even when you were training me. It’s as if you’re trying to distance yourself from me and for the life of me, I cannot figure out why.”

“Are you quite done?” Rachel snapped. “If so, move. I have to get back to my desk.”

Tim checked his watch. “There’s still 45 minutes until work begins. Until then you are all mine.” Rachel’s heart rate kicked up at those four words.

“I do not have time for this Tim.” Rachel wanted out of there. “I am going to ask _nicely_ one last time. Move.” Her demand was blatantly ignored in the form of Tim taking another step toward her. This time instead of stepping back, Rachel tried to walk around him, only for her arm to be locked in a steel grip by his fingers.

“What’s going on with you?” Tim’s fingers dug into her arm, no doubt leaving bruises.

Rachel looked from his hand to his eyes. “Let go of me right this minute.” If anything, Tim’s grip on her tightened. “Let go, or I will drop your ass.” The threatened growl was real.

“Between you and me,” Tim lowered his face to hers that their noses almost brushed, “who do you really think would win that scuffle?”

The smile on Rachel’s face was nasty. “You really want to know what has been eating at me? What those dreams that have been keeping me awake are about?”

“That is what I have been asking.”

“I have been having sex dreams about you.”

The silence ringing around them at her admission was deafening. Tim’s eyebrows slowly climbed their way up his forehead.

“That is not what I was expecting.”

“What?” Rachel’s tone was sarcastic. “Not what _you_ were expecting? Then imagine how I felt each night I closed my eyes to sleep, only to be visited by the same dream _every night_. You, over me, under me. Thrusting into me, fast, slow, hard, gentle.” Rachel’s words were harsh. “Your head between my legs. Your fingers touching me, making me scream. Your fucking voice in my ear, constantly saying ‘ _yes, ma’am’_. I fucking _came_ just from a dream of you fucking me through my mattress!”

Her voice was hard, but Rachel had no idea what her words; her detailed description of her dreams was doing to Tim until her pounced on her.

One second Rachel was standing up straight, the next second, her back connected hard with the concrete wall behind her with Tim pressed tightly against her front doing his best to find gold down her throat with his tongue as he kissed her hard.

The file fell from Rachel’s hand, papers fluttering on the floor around her as she grabbed Tim’s shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. Tim had one hand gripping her waist, with the other hitching up her thigh, making Rachel curl her leg around his waist, moaning when Tim grounded his hard cock against her. He mimicked the art of fucking her, as they fought the urge to break the kiss to breathe.

It was only when Tim got his hand under Rachel’s blouse, fingers skating along her warm skin that Rachel remembered where they were, and not only broke the kiss, but pushed Tim away from her in that same instant.

The sounds of their breathing echoed in the room. Tim’s hair was in disarray from Rachel getting her hands in it and pulling. But she looked no better, her lips felt swollen from the kissing, her blouse was out of her pants and she felt very unsatisfied. Without another word and the file, she needed, Rachel left the evidence room, not looking back at Tim.

After that incident in the evidence room, where Tim attacked Rachel’s mouth with his own, and tried to become one with her while standing, they ignored each other for the remainder of the week. Barely looking or speaking to each other. It was nothing their co-workers noticed, as Tim usually kept to himself unless spoken to and everyone was still giving Rachel space.

Friday arrived slowly and at 5:00 p.m. on the dot, Rachel was out of the office, arriving home in ten minutes, with the intentions of taking a hot shower, ordering a large pizza that she was planning on eating herself and spending the rest of the night watching _Netflix_.

Freshly showered, pizza ordered, and, on the way, Rachel planted herself on the couch, _Netflix_ in the process of loading when there was a knock on her apartment door. Not thinking twice that whoever at the door was not the pizza delivery guy, Rachel opened the door, with only barely a second to see who her visitor was before her lips were captured in a demanding kiss, and her body pressed against hard muscles, with an arm wrapped around her waist holding her close.

Rachel kissed back, until she remembered _who_ she was kissing and broke it, managing to break the hold he had on her waist as well. "What are you doing?" She was breathless, looking up into dilated blue eyes. 

"Making your dreams a reality." Tim's voice was a bit raspy, his lips red. He took a step forward, his hands outstretched pulling her back in.

"Tim," Rachel did not resist as he leaned down to kiss her forehead, eyelids, her cheeks and then her lips. Her fingers curled into the material of his shirt, holding him close to her as Tim reclaimed her lips in a much gentler kiss. 

"Bedroom?" Tim asked between kisses he was trailing down her neck.

Without breaking a part, Rachel led him down the short hallway to her bedroom. Once inside, Tim removed his badge and gun from his hip, depositing it on the nearest flat surface he spied from one open eye, still backing Rachel towards her bed. They fell back on the bed, Rachel on her back, spreading her legs to accommodate Tim, whose erection pressed deliciously against her. Rachel wanted the barrier of clothes between them gone and made this known when she grabbed the hem of his shirt and began lifting it up along his torso. 

Tim broke the kiss to sit back on his heels and tear his shirt over his head, his dog-tags clinking against each other from being disturbed. With his shirt forgotten in some dark corner of the room, Tim, his blue eyes almost black with desire raked over Rachel's form on the bed; her smooth beautiful legs were bent at the knees, one strap of her camisole had slid down her shoulder, bringing his attention to her heaving chest, her amble bosom rising and falling with each breath.

"What?" Her eyes were dark, and she licked her lips. 

Tim bent again, to taste her lips, slowly this time. The pressed the entirety of his body against her, one hand one her thigh sliding up to squeeze her ass, the other finding warm skin under her shirt. His hand snaked up to palm her breast; Rachel's back arched instantaneously, her legs squeezing his waist from the pleasure and Tim hummed his want in her mouth. Wanting more skin between them, the sniper wasted no more time in getting them both undressed, first himself and then Rachel admiring her naked beauty.

Her dreams, Rachel realised did not hold a candle to her reality. Tim was warm and firm under her fingers, she had managed to get him on his back, straddling his waist, Rachel traced the tattoo on his chest. They had not engaged in sex as yet, but they were getting close, as Tim had a grip on her hips, and they stared at each other as the last rays of sunshine faded from her room, Rachel leaned over and turned on the bedside lamp flooding the room in a warm glow of light.

Tim's blue eyes were black, greed, lust, desire, want, clearly written on his face. "I am going to make you scream Rach." He promised her, his fingers digging into her skin, making her moan. "I am going to rock your world. Make it so that your dreams can never compare to the reality I am about to give you."

Rachel laughed, it may not have been the right moment and if Tim were a lesser man he would have been offended, but his face was smug. He knew what he was doing, and Rachel wanted to experience that. She leaned down so that her breasts pressed against his chest, their lips meeting but not kissing.

"Bring it on." She whispered.

Becoming one with Tim was magnificent and if Rachel wanted to be poetic and at the same time cliched, it was earth shattering. His cock was long and thick, that she felt properly stretched around him as he thrusted into her. As they had sex, Tim teased her with soft kisses, sharp nips, his hands were everywhere. He had her multiple times that night, in multiple positions; on her back, on her side, sitting up in his lap, riding him. Rachel lost count of how many times Tim made her orgasm.

As they laid sated and sleepy, with Tim wrapped around Rachel, their breathing and heart rates calming, Rachel knew that they would have to face the consequences of their actions in the morning. However, right now in the dark of her bedroom, she would sleep peacefully with one of the most dangerous men she knew pressed against her naked back. Her dreams finally quiet.


	15. Halle-fuckin-lujah (Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel and Tim had a violent first meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

They stared at each other, guns drawn, locked in a tense standoff. 

Tim had no idea how she had managed to sneak up behind him. Mark was going to laugh his ass off when he heard how some slip of a woman, got the drop on an ex-Army Ranger sniper. But Tim had to admit, he has made grown men cry, but the woman standing before him, looked more annoyed than scared.

**15 MINUTES EARLIER**

Tim had been rifling through the filing cabinet of a recently murdered drug lord. He had been contacted by a friend, who knew someone, who knew a rather important person, who needed incriminating evidence that the now deceased drug lord had on his daughter to disappear. And Tim who had a certain skill set that came with being a former sniper decided that stealing from a dead criminal and being handsomely paid for it wasn't so bad.

Everything was going well. It was the dead of night, no one but Tim and his thoughts in the room as he went through each file meticulously searching for his prize. At least, that is what he thought when a voice sounded behind him, that he could only describe as iced cold lemonade on a hot summer's day. Turning, Tim came face to face with Rachel, who had a hand on her weapon but had not unholstered it.

“Are you going to answer me?" She asked coolly.

Tim realised that he had just done the dumbest thing ever. Something that he was trained not to do and could have cost him his life if this had been the battlefield. He got distracted.

"Pardon?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I asked, who are you and what are you doing here?"

"Would you believe me if I said I was on the way to grandmother's house and got lost?" Was out of his mouth in an instant.

The look he got could have frozen hell twice over.

"How about I help you find her house, by cuffing you and hauling your white boy ass into the Marshal's office."

"Well, now," Tim drawled, "that is just racist of you." He smiled crookedly at her, receiving an unimpressed look in return. 

"I won't be asking a third time." Rachel pulled her gun and aimed it at Tim who held up his hands slowly. "You can come quietly, or I can shoot out your kneecaps."

"You wouldn't get a shot off before I get that gun out of your hands."

Rachel's smirk was dangerous, "I'd like to see that."

Tim shrugged, "can't say I didn't warn you." 

In the blink of an eye, Tim dropped his hands, grabbed a thick file on top of the filing cabinet he was standing beside and threw it viciously at Rachel who held up the hand not holding her gun to protect her face. Papers from the file flew everywhere and Tim using the distraction got in Rachel's space and kicked the gun from her hand. Rachel not helpless without a gun, kicked up, the tip of her boot clipping Tim's chin. As the papers slowly fell to the ground around them, the two opponents drew back to their respective corners; Tim by the row of filing cabinets and Rachel in front of the only entrance and exit. 

"Well now," he eyed the exit behind her, "we are at quite the impasse." 

Rachel did not budge from her fighting stance.

"Listen, why don't you just let me go and we both win?" Tim tried bargaining. "I will leave empty handed and you will leave uninjured."

"Uninjured?" Rachel's tone said it all, she did not think shit of the man standing before her. 

Tim had no time to think before Rachel hurled a snow globe paper weight at him. He ducked and it shattered against the wall behind him. He had to admit that she had quite the arm on her, but that admiration quickly soured when Rachel managed to get in a right hook across his jaw. He spat out blood on the genuine hardwood floor, wiping off what had managed to trickle down his chin.

Rachel once again backed up, creating space between them. Her dark brown eyes watched Tim as he took a step forward, she stood her ground and was ready for him when he came charging at her. She managed to block a punch aimed for her face, and barely dodged the one aimed for her midsection. She pushed Tim away from her with enough force to send him back into the desk, his back colliding painfully with the hard-mahogany wood. 

"I must say," Tim wheezed as he picked himself up, "I can't tell the last time someone lasted this long while going against me.” He wiped at his lip with the back of his hand, looking at the blood that came away on it. “Even managing to get in a few hits."

"Who're you?" Rachel realised that she had no idea of whom she was fighting, but knew he was not one a regular person should ever mess with.

"Tim."

"Got a last name Tim?"

He gave her wink, "buy me a drink first and I might consider giving it to you." Tim charged at her again, swinging upwards. Rachel blocked the hit but was taken by surprise when he grabbed her ponytail, yanking her head back viciously, baring her throat for his teeth.

"Gotcha ya'."

Tim's victory smirk turned in a grimace when Rachel slammed her boot heel on his shin, effectively causing him to release his hold on her. She used his short-lived moment of pain to punch him across his jaw and in his stomach. However, Tim was not one to go down that easily. He decided that since he could not beat Rachel while on her feet, he would take her down to the floor, and tackled her.

Rachel's back connected roughly with the hardwood floor; the air being knocked out of her lungs. She had barely caught her breath when a force of brute strength slammed across her right cheek. Dazed, she managed to turn her head to see Tim straddling her waist, his fist raised to get in another hit.

She bucked up causing Tim to lose his balance and as he fell forward Rachel brought her head up and headbutted him. Stars burst behind her closed eyelids from the pain, but it did the job as Tim grabbed his forehead and Rachel was able to reverse their positions. This time, however, instead of trying to get in another hit, she took out her handcuffs and with one cuff tightly secured around his wrist, the other was secured around the closest immovable object which was a radiator.

"Try getting out of that, bitch." Rachel bit out as she got to her feet, glaring down at a slightly dazed Tim.

"You hit hard." Tim groaned rubbing his forehead. He did not expect that, and his head was hurting something terrible. Tim barely registered Rachel's walking away from him to make a phone call. He looked at where his wrist was secured to the radiator and dropped his head to the floor with an audible thud. "Fuck."

"Don't worry," Rachel glared down at him, rubbing her sore cheek. "Back up will be here in five minutes, and then you will nice and comfy in a jail cell."

Tim gave her his best devil-may-care-smile, something that made his head hurt even more. "That's awful sweet of you Marshal." The good ol' Texas boy charm was on at full force, but Rachel was unaffected. "But just so you know, these cuffs," he shook his wrist for emphasis, “won’t hold me."

Rachel unholstered her gun again and aimed it at his left knee, her hand steady. "No, but I am sure that a bullet to the knee will."

Tim's eyes went from the gun to her eyes, "promises Marshal," his voice low and dangerous. 

The sound of Rachel's gun being cocked echoed in the room. "Try anything and you _will_ hurt more than you already do." Tim's face was a canvas painted with blood and Rachel knew in a few hours, both of them would be sporting some rather impressive bruises. "I am going to ask one last time. What were you looking for?"

"My dick." Tim said and was immediately pistol whipped hard across his temple, a line of blood flowing freely from his new injury.

"That...is...police brutality...," Tim was blinded by the pain, "and... abuse of power."

"Yeah, yeah, you can complain to my superior when I haul your ass in." Rachel checked her phone; she should be hearing sirens in a few minutes. However, when she looked back at her prisoner, the intense blue stare that met hers sent a shiver down her spine. "What?" She snapped. 

"You should have cuffed both my hands." He shrugged, "not that it would have made much difference anyway."

Rachel had no time to comprehend what he had said before a long leg kicked out at her hand, catching her wrist, and once again disarming her. The gun landed on the floor between her and Tim. They looked at each other and then at the gun, lunging for it at the same time. Rachel cursed when Tim's long fingers wrapped around her weapon, and she was now staring down the barrel. 

They were both panting hard, Rachel's eyes going from the gun to Tim's, looking for any opening.

"I suggest that you do not try anything Marshal." Tim warned. "I really do not want to hurt you."

Rachel snorted, "too late for that," she waved a hand at her already bruising face. 

"Well, I was defending myself." He indicated with the gun to his vacated seat by the radiator and the open handcuff. "Go handcuff yourself." Rachel glared hard at him but did as told. 

"Give me the keys, oh and that hairpin in your hair." 

"Good eye on you." Rachel said with enough disdain as she threw the keys hard enough at Tim's face who dodged them, and the single hairpin she had in her hair towards his shoe.

"What now?" 

"Now," Tim stopped speaking, his head cocked to the side as he listened to something in the distance.

_Sirens._

Back up was on the way and less than 10 blocks away. He glanced back down at Rachel who was looking right back at him. "Now, I make my grand escape."

Rachel scoffed, "don't show your face around here again Tim."

"Why?" Tim gave her a crooked grin, "what if I wanna visit you?" He crouched down to her eye level, keeping a safe distance between them. 

"Ok, let me put it like this; next time I see you, I will put a bullet between your eyes."

They stared at each, the promise in the air, as the sounds of the sirens got closer. 

"I will keep that in mind." Tim said as he replaced the safety on Rachel's gun, placing it just out of her reach as he made to leave the room. "It was nice meeting you Marshal." His words were genuine as was his tone. "I do hope our next meeting is not so violent."

Rachel did not answer him, but watched as he left, something at the back of her mind saying that this would not be the last time that she would be seeing him.

  
  



	16. Temptation (Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel is temptation wrapped in a 5'2" package, and Tim wants her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

It had been a trying week for Tim who was out the entire week hunting down three violent fugitives. The first one he caught, attempted to set Tim fire. The second one took a single mother and her young daughter as hostages and the third decided to use Tim's prized SUV as target practice. 

Trudging back into the office on Friday afternoon, Tim grabbed his open case files, intending to write all his reports that afternoon, not wanting to leave anything for Monday morning and not in the mood to put in for any overtime on the weekend. His intentions were to set up shop in the conference room, stopping short when he saw that it was already occupied. 

Knocking on the glass door, he entered. "Hope there’s room for two." 

Rachel who was bent over her own set of files, waved the hand holding her pen to the empty chairs across the table from her. 

Tim sat down quietly, directly across from her and began his work. They worked together in silence, the office outside forgotten as early afternoon turned into late evening and before they knew, it was 9:30 p.m. and they were the only ones left in the office and possibly the entire building. 

Tim had finished his reports two hours ago, but remained reading one of his many fantasy novels, under the guise of keeping Rachel company as she continued with her final report, when in reality he wanted to spend more time with her. He soon realised it was a mistake.

He had made a discovery that afternoon, that Rachel had gotten into the habit of biting her bottom lip, and it was silently driving Tim crazy. He watched with a focused intensity as she captured it between her teeth, bit it then released it. Only to repeat the act. Tim had no idea where he was in his book, skipping pages at random, to make it seem like he was still reading and not creeping on his senior co-worker.

That went on for well over and hour.

Having had enough, Tim finally snapped. "STOP THAT!" He slammed his book on the table, causing Rachel to jump in surprise, her pen going haywire and dragging line of black ink through half of her report.

She looked at him with wide shocked eyes. "Stop what?" She had actually forgotten that the sniper was there in the room with her, from how quiet he was, until his sudden outburst.

Tim was breathing hard, and Rachel was beginning to wonder, if this was the 'powder keg' finally exploding. 

"Stop. Biting. Your. Lip." The words were hard and sharp. "It is annoying."

"What?" Rachel had no idea what else to ask. "Tim, what the hell?" 

He rose from his seat, Rachel's eyes tracking him as walked around the desk to loom over her. "Biting your goddamn lip."

Tim bent at the waist, grabbing hold of the arms of the chair that Rachel currently occupied, ignoring the _‘what-the-hell’_ look she gave him again. "It is driving me _insane_." The last word was a hiss, Tim's eyes zeroing in on the abused piece of flesh. 

Rachel pressed back as much as she could in her seat, not exactly sure what was happening. "Tim, I think you are beyond exhausted; you should really go home and rest." 

"You're teasing me." He murmured, ignoring her words, looking hypnotized as Rachel looked at him as if he were having a psychotic break. "I should be the one biting it."

Words were lost to Rachel at the sudden admission. However, when Tim had not moved out of her personal space, she found her voice. "Try it and you will be in for a world of hurt." 

The threat worked as Tim broke out of whatever trance held him. He stood up, Rachel's eyes sizing him up as he ran long fingers through his hair that was now falling in his face. 

"Uh, I think- yeah, I'm gonna go."

Rachel had never seen Tim at a loss for words, and if she was not mistaken, he was blushing, but the sniper moved so fast, grabbing his book and reports and exited the conference room. Tim grabbed his coat from his desk chair and left the office entirely in record time.

He tossed over his shoulder, "good night Rachel," and was out and away from the temptation he faced. Tim drove back to his apartment in a daze, his mind replaying how he had revealed his want for Rachel; how he had cornered her in her chair, how her dark chocolate brown eyes widened at his admission. Just a few more inches and he could have claimed her lips for himself.

Tim restrained himself from punching the steering wheel of one of the Marshal SUV he was borrowing. However, he could not help but think that Monday was going to be an interesting affair, something he was not looking forward to.


	17. Moments With Rachel Brooks & Tim Gutterson (PART II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More moments in the house of Brooks/Gutterson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

**1) Sex**

Sex with Tim could be fast or slow, hard or gentle, wild or tamed, fun or serious, filled with anger or love. No matter what the sex was between them, it was only with Tim with whom Rachel would share her body with for the rest of her life.

**2) Territorial**

Rachel was _territorial._ Tim Gutterson was _her_ ex-Army Ranger. _She_ trained him when no one else would even so much as look in his direction, so, why the hell was this -past-his-sell-by-date Marshal, trying to take what was _hers_?

Rachel watched as Nelson smiled kindly down at Tim who looked bored, trying to get him to assist with a prison transport.

"Tim." Her sweet southern voice called out. "I got a lead c'mon."

Tim all but shoved Nelson out of the way to follow Rachel out the office doors. Both ignorant to the twin looks of awe they were receiving.

"She trained him well." Raylan commented, from where he watched them disappear out into the hallway from Art's office.

The veteran Marshal chuckled. "Train him well she did. Rachel has had him on a leash since day one and God bless us all when she finally decides to set him free."

Raylan looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"Tim's her lil' huntin' dog." Art said not unkindly. "And Rachel is a very territorial owner."

**3) Best Friend**

“You’re my best friend”

Upon hearing that declaration Tim got up from the couch, returning with extra-large garbage bags, a shovel, bleach and gloves.

“Who’re we capping?” 

**4) You Make Me Better**

_♫_ _I'm a movement by myself_ _  
_ _But I'm a force when we're together_ _  
_ _Mami, I'm good all by myself_ _  
_ _But, baby, you, you make me better_ _♫_

Tim was movement all on his own; a one-man army some would say. But with Rachel by his side, they were a force to be reckoned with.

They were a deadly combination of skill and intelligence. That is why Tim took it further and made their partnership permanent, by putting a ring on Rachel’s finger.

**5) Badges of Honour**

To the outsider, Rachel and Tim were co-workers, sometimes partner and when the need arises, acting chief and subordinate. However, only Tim knew that Rachel was sporting an impressive set of handprint bruises on her waist and hips under her smart button-down blouse from how tight his grip was from two nights ago as he fucked her into his mattress.

Only Rachel knew, that Tim was sporting claw marks from his shoulder blades down to his waist thanks to her nails. As well as, a bite mark in the junction of where his neck and shoulder met.

Only Tim knew that Rachel liked it when her held her down, hard enough to leave bruises, physical evidence of their coupling. 

Only Rachel knew that Tim liked the marks she left on him; evidence that he was doing her right.

Their marks on each other were badges of honour and the wearer wore them with pride.

**6) Glasses**

Rachel had no idea why Tim had a pair of fake glasses, when his vision was 20/20, but she liked how sexy he looked with them on.

**7) Cocaine**

"Do not breathed it in Tim." Rachel commanded.

"Breathe it in?” Tim’s voice was nasal from following Rachel’s orders. “I can't even open my eyes. Jesus Christ I am blind."

Being hosed down outside in the middle of December due to being doused from head to toe in cocaine was not Rachel or Tim’s idea of a good time.

**8) Trembling**

Tim held Rachel close, trying to keep her warm as they waited for the helicopter that would be airlifting them to the closest hospital.

Her trembling had gotten worse, and Tim had never hated the colour blue, more than he did right then as Rachel’s lips showed evidence of her being in the freezing water for too long.

**9) Anger**

They were both angry with each other. Neither saying a word since they got home, eating dinner and getting ready for bed in absolute silence.

They laid on their queen-sized bed, facing away from each other, a chasm between them, filled with their anger. Both unable to sleep.

Tim huffed, rolling halfway onto his back. “Can you please come over here and wrap your arm around my waist, so that I can hold your hand and go to sleep.”

There was a moment of silence before Rachel jerkily turned over, her movements shaking the bed and Tim knew she was doing so on purpose.

Rachel said nothing as she snuggled up against Tim’s naked back, and slung her arm over his waist, feeling his long, dexterous fingers link with hers.

“Love you.” He mumbled, already falling asleep.

“Love you too.” Rachel kissed his shoulder blade.

**10) Chameleon**

Tim could become whoever he wanted to be. Another dumb redneck, a preppy guy, a Wall Street three-piece suit businessman, a kept man. _Anything_ he put his mind to being, he could pull it off without a hitch.

But what he enjoyed becoming the most was Rachel Brooks' husband

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #4 - Song by: Fabolous ft. Ne-yo


	18. War (Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel started the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

**_How the fight started._ **

" _Star Wars_ sucks." Rachel announced as she entered her home, kissing Tim on his cheek as he stared at her in sheer disbelief. "I will take S _tar Trek_ any day."

Tim wiped the cheek she kissed, like a little kid. Angry from her words, he ate the last of her pancakes the next morning. 

* * *

**_How the fight escalated._ **

During the capture and arrest of a violent fugitive, Rachel said out of nowhere while putting the in the backseat of her car, " _'The Fantastic Beast and Where to Find Them'_ is much better than _'Harry Potter'_. Tim clenched his fists and said nothing as he got in the passenger seat. He said nothing to Rachel for the entire three-hour drive back to Lexington. Even the prisoner looked affronted by her declaration. 

Tim switched out Rachel's coffee with decaf. 

It was an interesting two weeks at work before Tim took pity on his co-workers, after Rachel had chewed up and spat out Raylan when he asked a simple question of borrowing a pen.

* * *

**_How a cease fire came about._ **

"Hey." Rachel greeted Tim who laid sprawled out on their couch, fresh from the shower. 

"Hey." He leaned up on his elbows as Rachel leaned down for a kiss.

"Got any plans tonight?" She asked, her lips brushing his as she spoke.

Tim laid back down, his eyes roaming over Rachel's body, intent clear in his eyes. "Not yet. But I am all ears if you got any."

"Two words," Rachel held up her middle and index fingers. " _Hobbit Marathon"_.

Tim blinked, then blinked again before a smile slowly appeared on his face. "I like the way you think."

"Lemme just take a quick shower and then we can get the show started."

Tim's eyes followed Rachel's back as she disappeared into their bedroom. He reached down the side of the couch and took up the nerf gun he had stashed there, ready for her in case she wanted to continue this war she had started.


	19. I Am Not My Father's Son (Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim would never raise his hand to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mention of past domestic abuse both by parent/spouse (nothing graphic)
> 
> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

Tim's daddy was an abusive alcoholic bastard. He would beat Tim's mother black and blue and when she left, he turned his sights on Tim who put up with it until he was older and big enough to fight back.

Every time his father hit him; Tim would hit back ten times harder. He never pulled his punches. He can still remember the look of astonishment on his father’s face, the first time he retaliated. Astonishment soon morphed into unadulterated rage, but Tim was ready for him. This volatile relationship continued until Tim turned seventeen and left to enlist in the Rangers.

Tim was sorely disappointed upon returning from basic training to hear that his father had died during that time. 

Seeing no other way to get even, Tim dug up his father's body, doused it in gasoline and set it on fire. He watched with a wet cloth over his mouth and nose, as the fire ate up his father's corpse.

Fast forward fifteen years, Tim is in one hell of a serious relationship with one major badass Rachel Brooks, and even though he drinks, Tim would think of ever raising a hand at her. In the time they have known each other, Tim cannot recall even so much as raising his voice at her, even while arguing or giving her so much as a dirty look. 

Tim swore that he would never be like his father, and that is something he is going to uphold. 


	20. Wrong, Wrong, Wrong... (Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...on so many levels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold Italics – Tim’s inner thoughts/conflicts
> 
> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

**_I should not be here._ **

Tim thought. _Here_ being the luxurious apartment of one Rachel Brooks, a notorious (alleged) arms dealer. Tim's boss would have an aneurysm if he knew were his best Marshal was. 

**_This is wrong_ ** **.**

Tim thought as his hands slid up the silk smooth skin of Rachel's thighs. His strong hands making their way around to grab her ass and lift her up, so that Rachel had to wrap her legs around his waist. 

**_I should have her in handcuffs, reading her Miranda Rights to her._ **

Tim groaned loudly as he sheathed himself in Rachel's hot, tight heat. Rachel's back arching clear off the bed, crushing her breasts to his chest.

**_This goes against everything I stand for and swore to uphold._ **

Tim is sporting claw marks on his back under his work shirt, courtesy of Rachel's nails from the night before. His shirt collar hide the bite marks Rachel made on his neck, claiming him as hers. His dick twitch in his pants as he walks the halls of the courthouse, seeing Rachel walking in his direction, her lawyer by her side. Rachel looks as powerful and untouchable in an expensive tailored pants suit, as she does clad in a blue lace bra with matching underwear. 

Rachel's dark brown eyes meet his cornflower blue as they pass each other; the smirk in her eyes only for him to see and Tim knows whose bed he will be in come nightfall. 

_**I don’t want to be right…** _


	21. Last Name (Rachel & Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It started with coffee and ended with his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics - Past
> 
> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

**" _Rachel Badass Brooks_."** Deputy U.S. Marshal Rachel Brooks read the _name_ written on her coffee cup and then looked the cornflower blue eyes twinkling with amusement. 

Tim Gutterson, ex-army Ranger now coffee shop barista shrugged unapologetic. "What? The name fits."

Rachel shook her head and laughed. "I will see you tomorrow Tim.” She said in departure, Tim's eyes following her as she left the coffee shop, walked pass the large glass windows and turned the corner out of sight.

Tim began working at a small, but well-known coffee shop ten months ago after leaving the Rangers. He wanted a quiet life, free of bombs, gunfire, blood and death. He had no experience in making coffee, wasn't particularly fond of the beverage himself, but he saw on the job ad that training was offered and figure _'what the hell_ '. He took to the job like a fish in water and that was how he and Rachel had met. 

* * *

_One particular morning when the shop was unusually empty due to a raging thunderstorm, Rachel had come in, her umbrella dripping water on the floor by the door where she left it before approaching the cash register._

_"Sorry about the water."_

_Tim looked at the umbrella and back at Rachel, shrugging "I’ll clean it up. What are you having?"_

_"A large Dead Eye with five shots of espresso." Rachel said with a straight face and Tim shot her a look._

_"Okay," he dragged out the last two syllables. "A large heart attack, coming right up."_

_Rachel laughed, "that large heart attack, is what's going to keep me going today."_

_They had never conversed with each other. Often time Tim only took her order and sent her down the counter to wait as it was prepared. However, her attire, to her no-nonsense attitude at times and the badge and gun on her hip, Tim knew that Rachel was some type of law enforcement._

_"Long day?" He asked, moving down the counter on his side to make her drink, Rachel following._

_"Yeah," she glanced out the pouring rain. "I have court in two hours and then back to the office to finish a mountain of paperwork."_

_"Sucks to be you." Tim shot her a grin over his shoulder to which he received an eye roll for. "What is it that you do?"_

_"I am a Deputy U.S. Marshal."_

_Tim turned around with her drink but did not give it to her, instead using a black marker to write something on the cup. "Yeah?"_

_"Yeah."_

_He licked his lips, a smirk playing on them. "Then your large heart attack is on the house, so that you can get through your day with minimal bloodshed." Tim held her order out to her, their fingers brushing as Rachel_ _accepted it._

_"Thank you." She smiled gratefully, only to give him a flat look when she saw what was written on the cup. "Really?" She turned the cup so that Tim saw his chicken scrawl 'Heart Attack' and grinned unrepentant._

_"Whatever gets you through the day."_

_Rachel rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee before collecting her umbrella and venturing back out into the rain._

* * *

That had been months ago, and once Tim was the person preparing her drink, Rachel knew that he was going to write something other than her name on the cup. Sometimes it was a drawing, or whatever could pass as a drawing when done by Tim. But it was their thing and it made Rachel smile every morning. 

They got to know a little about each other during those five minutes they spent in each other's company. Rachel knew that Tim is an ex-army Ranger, where he was a crack-shot sniper. Tim knew that Rachel's two older brothers and younger sister were all in the military. Rachel knew that Tim hated the taste of coffee but had a serious sweet tooth for cherry and apple pie. Tim knew that Rachel was allergic to honey.

They both knew little things about each other, but Tim wanted to know more, _a lot more_. That's why the next time, Rachel came into the shop, he did what he always did. 

Rachel accepted her cup and looked at what was written, almost dropping it. 

**_"Dinner?"_ **

Only one word, one question was written on the cup in as legible writing as Tim could produce, his sharp eyes watching Rachel as she read it, her eyes widening in shock before she blinded him with her smile. 

"I know this great place about ten miles from here." Tim said.

"Pick me up Friday at 7:00 p.m.?" Rachel asked and Tim nodded. She left after writing down her address and number, missing how Tim was smiling to himself like a fool. 

Dinner turned into Tim waking up at either his or Rachel's apartment and preparing coffee for her, while still leaving little notes on them. 

Morning coffee turned into Tim dropping by Rachel's workplace to give her coffee and lunch. Which turned into Tim moving into Rachel's more spacious apartment and packing lunch for her every day.

However, Rachel would still stop by the coffee shop no matter the time of day and order her heart attack in a cup. This time when she spun the cup around, it took her a while to figure out what it meant, gently she placed it on the counter out of harm's way before vaulting over the counter to kiss the life out of Tim in full view of his co-workers and customers.

**_'Heart Attack for Rachel Gutterson'_ **


	22. Let's Write A Love Song That's Strange and Twisted (Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel and Tim meet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Hallefuckinglujah
> 
> The title of this fic does not belong to me. I straight up cannot recall where I saw/heard those words and I cannot find whoever posted it online.
> 
> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

The bar was noisy and rowdy, typical for a Friday night, but Rachel paid the crowd no mind, her eyes on the pool game she was playing against herself. She was away in the back of the bar in the far corner, where the lighting was dim. That pool table for some reason was the only one there, while the other three were on the other side of the bar. Since the first time Rachel visited this particular bar, she had claimed that table as hers and the owner/bartender Lee made sure that once she stepped foot in his bar it was all hers.

So caught up in her own world, Rachel was unaware that someone was standing right behind her until a deep Texan accented voice spoke.

"We meet again Marshal."

Rachel spun immediately, her eyes meeting steel blue. Rachel scanned the rest of the bar and saw that no one was paying them any mind. She was alone, tucked in a dark pocket of the bar with someone who could possibly kill her and escape before anyone was aware of what took place. 

As if reading her thoughts Tim spoke, "you really should learn to be more aware of your surroundings Marshal." He said, walking over to the wall to take up a pool cue for himself. He turned back to face her, a too smug smirk on his face. "Fancy a game of one-on-one?"

Rachel said nothing as she racked the balls and broke them a part with a clean shot of the cue ball. Tim whistled lowly in appreciation, his sniper eyes watching her every move. She sunk three solid balls cleanly before missing on her forth shot. Tim said nothing as he leaned over the table and lined up a shot. The former sniper sunk all of the stripe balls with ease, much to the quiet seething of Rachel.

He stood back up to face her, cornflower blue eyes alight with mischief and Rachel swore internally. If she had met him like this, without knowing that he is a criminal, Rachel would have taken him home with her. But reality was a cold-hearted bitch.

"Another game?"

"What do you want?" Rachel's voice was terse, her hands tightening around the pool stick when she saw that irritating smirk on Tim's face.

"What everyone else wants." He stretched his arms out to the side as if that told her anything. "World peace."

Rachel tired of his bullshit replaced her pool stick and stepped out into the bar, signalling to the other bartender for a drink. Taking a seat at her designated table, Rachel was not surprised when Tim sat down across from her.

"Hi Rae." The bartender, Linda, greeted setting down her favourite customer's drink and shooting a look at Tim. "And what are you having handsome?"

Tim shot her a million-dollar smile. "Seven shots of your best tequila and a beer."

Linda walked off to get the drinks and Tim's focus was back on Rachel with a quiet intensity that she matched. Their staring only broken when Linda brought Tim's drink request, leaving with a not so subtle wink in Rachel's direction.

Rachel eyed the shots that were before Tim, her eyes following as his long fingers wrapped around each of the shot glasses, and as he tossed them back with ease, his Adam apple bobbing as he swallowed. He finished all seven shots one behind the other, then took a sip of his beer. Rachel took a sip of her own drink, the bar noisy around them, but in their little corner it was quiet.

"I hate repeating myself," Rachel's voice was calm and no nonsense, but it had the desired effect of gaining her Tim's undivided attention. "But I am rather curious; what are you doing here? What do you want?"

Tim leaned back in his chair and regarded her with clear eyes. "I was visiting some friends a few states over. Decided to take the scenic route back home and stopped here for the night." Rachel suspected he was not lying, but that was not the whole truth either.

"And where is home?" Rachel doubt she would get the truth, but she had to try.

"Montana." He answered without missing a beat. "Wanted out of my motel room, saw this bar on the way in, came to check it out and I am glad I did." He winked, wrapping his long fingers wrapped around the beer bottle and lifted it to his lips, Rachel's eyes tracking the movement. "as to what I want," he tilted his head a little. "The company of an intelligent and beautiful lady for the night."

Rachel was torn between laughing in his face and breaking her beer bottle over his head. She settled for an eye roll. "Keep looking."

"Can't blame a guy for trying." He shrugged, "lookin' the way you do in those jeans."

Rachel knew exactly how she looked; she had fended off at least three guys earlier who were trying to move in on her. But hearing those words fall from the lips of the man sitting in front of her coupled with the looks he had been giving her the entire time they played pool, whom she had only met a few months earlier where they almost kicked the shit out of each other was something else entirely.

If she had met him normally, like this in a bar, Rachel would definitely have given him the time of day. But she knew he was a criminal and not much else, aside from his name and that he was a Texan native living far from home.

"You're a snake with blue eyes." Rachel spat, chugging the rest of her beer and slamming the bottle down on the table.

Tim mockingly placed a hand over his heart, "ouch. Tell me how you really feel Marshal."

"You're lucky I don't haul your ass in right now for that shit a few months ago."

"Are you sure you really want to do _that_?" His leg found hers under the table and was pleasantly surprised when she did not recoil, instead allowing his to press their jeans clad calves together. He leaned his elbows on the table, lowering his voice. "Do you really want to arrest me? Or do you just want to see me handcuffs again." 

His smile was dirty, his eyes filled with promises and Rachel's skin was hot where Tim had somehow managed to wrap his fingers around her wrist without her realising it. 

"Let go of me." 

Tim did as she quietly demanded, watching as she slid out of her seat and stood up. Rachel tossed down enough money to cover her drink and grabbed her jacket.

"I don't know who are you Tim." He raised an eyebrow. "I ran you through every database possible," she continued speaking, "and nothing came up." Rachel gave him a slight kick in his shin when he gave her a cocky grin. "That means you either do not want to be found or is involved some shady shit. I am guessing both for you."

"A gentleman never kisses and tells." He remarked.

Rachel sighed, tired of the day and her night being ruined by someone she never thought she would ever see again. "Good night Tim. Don't ever show your face around here again." She left without further ado.

Tim watched as she left, noticing how some other male patrons watched as well before turning back to finish their beer. He unconsciously rubbed his fingers together, recalling the feel of Rachel's' soft, smooth skin beneath them. He smiled to himself, knowing that he would definitely be seeing the Marshal again in the future. The very near future.


	23. Say It Ain't So (Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to 'Let's Write A Love Song That's Strange and Twisted'
> 
> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

Rachel had only been informed that the office would be receiving a new Marshal that she would be in charge of training, and that he was a former Army Ranger sniper. Aside from those bits of information, Rachel knew next to nothing about her soon to be new co-worker. Hence the reason why on a bright and too early Wednesday morning, Rachel was screaming internally as Art introduced her and Raylan to Deputy Marshal _Tim Gutterson_.

Tim was all small cordial smiles, shaking hands with Raylan who offered him a bright, welcoming smile of his own and Rachel barely resisted the urge to shake her head at the poor soul that Raylan was. Tim turned his cornflower blue eyes on Rachel, his smile widening, and his drawl even lower. Oh, how Rachel wanted to wipe it from his face _violently_.

"Nice to meet you ma'am." He greeted, hand held out for a handshake.

Rachel pasted on a professional smile, and gripped his hand tightly feeling the bones rub against each other. Tim did not even blink at the pain.

"Nice to meet you Tim _Gutterson_." She released his hand and Tim flexed his fingers.

"Quite the grip you got there ma'am." He grinned at her and Rachel was two seconds away from beating his ass bloody when oblivious to the tension between Tim and Rachel, Art spoke. 

"Rachel, since you're the responsible one," Art ignored Raylan's protests, "you get to run point on Tim's training." 

She glanced at Art, "yes, Chief."

"You are both dismissed. I need to speak with Raylan." His look said he was over Raylan's shit. 

Rachel smirked on the way out, her eyes cutting to Raylan with a raised eyebrow who shrugged in response. Tim exited behind her, closing the door to Art's office. The office was already buzzing with people, Nelson greeted Rachel as she walked by his desk and out the door. She opened the door to the stairwell and began making her way down, only stopping when she did not hear the door close behind her. 

Standing on the first landing, Rachel looked behind her to see Tim standing in the doorway. Her eyes narrowed at him; she had so many questions, but the office was not the appropriate place to ask them. She resumed her walk down the stairs.

"Follow me."

Soon another step of footsteps, heavier than hers were making their way down the stairs.

Rachel brought him down to the Evidence Room, signing in herself as Charlie was not present at his desk and let herself and Tim into the part of the room fenced off with the chain link grill. She walked them further into the room, where boxes piled high hid them from outside eyes.

"Are you going to kill me?" Tim asked, amusement in his voice.

"You are not worth the bullets in my gun." Rachel responded.

"Other ways of killi-" Tim did not get a chance to finish his statement as Rachel had spun around, grabbed him by his shirt collar and slammed him into the wall, her arm pressing against his throat. 

He laughed, and Rachel pressed harder, not cutting off his air, but making it known that she was not playing around.

"What the hell are you doing here? What game are you playing?"

Tim held up his arms to show that he meant no harm. "Just as your boss said, I am the new Deputy Marshal here."

"Bullshit."

"Check my paperwork. I applied, went through the training and was assigned to this office."

Rachel was good at reading people, but with the man before her, she could not tell if he was genuine or just really got at bullshitting. She eased up on his throat and stepped back. Tim rubbed his neck and she knew in a little while his neck was going to be sporting a vivid red bruise.

"You're a criminal." Rachel spat, her eyes hard, her posture ready for anything he threw at her. "You were trying to steal God knows what from a dead man. And now you're here, claiming to be a morally upstanding lawman."

Tim held up a finger, "I did not claim to be a morally upstanding anything. I am a U.S. Deputy Marshal and I plan to carry out my duties to the best of my abilities." 

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Please, spare me your bullshit. The last thing we need here is a corrupt asshole with a badge and a gun. What is to stop me from going back up to Art and telling him all about our little meeting?"

"Nothing.” Tim shrugged, looking too unbothered about the situation. “Absolutely nothing is stopping you. But answer me this: why didn't you tell anyone about me?" He was genuinely curious that Rachel said nothing to her co-workers about that night. "You had all that time, and again after I saw you in the bar to report me." 

As he spoke, Tim moved away from the wall, taking a stepped towards Rachel who matched his every step forward with a step back until her back hit a pile of boxes effectively stopping her. "You knew exactly what I looked like, could have given my description to a sketch artist, so why didn't you?"

 _'Why didn't I?'_ Rachel asked herself that question on multiple occasions. The only answer she could come up with is that it would have been a waste of time. She didn't find anything in the databases she tried. Her brother in the FBI could not find anything when she had asked. Tim was a ghost because he chose to be, and she was sure even with a sketch that he would not have been found. 

"There were more important and dangerous criminals to catch other than a little petty thief." She answered. Tim's jaw clenched at that and Rachel smiled. 

"Well," he stepped back out of her personal space. "You now have the privilege of training this 'little petty thief'."

Rachel stepped forward and into his personal space this time, looking up into his eyes. "That I do and take note that I am going to make your life a living hell. I am the best Marshal in this entire office, and I will be damned if I allow some ex-army Ranger to fuck up on my watch. Prepare yourself Gutterson, I am going to make you a damn good Marshal, while keeping an eye on your ass."

Tim's smile was vicious as it was charming. "I do have a fine ass, so I don't mind if you wanna keep your eyes on it _ma'am_." That title sounded both like an insult and him leering at her with his tongue. 

Having said their piece, Rachel stepped back her eyes looking Tim up and down. 

"Welcome to the Lexington U.S. Marshal's Office, Deputy Gutterson." Rachel's entire demeanour screamed of professionalism and barely restrained violence. "Please, do something stupid and give me a reason to beat your ass again."

"Thank you, Deputy Brooks." Tim matched her tone. "I look forward to working with and learning from you."

**Meanwhile upstairs in Art' office.**

"Is it just me or do those two know each other?" Raylan asked.

"Beats me; but the way they were staring at each other, I couldn't tell if they were going to start a fight or aggressively make out."

Raylan laughed at his boss's observation. "Well, whatever they choose to do, just make sure Tim knows Rachel is your favourite and what will happen if he mistreats her."

"Yeah, Rachel will beat his ass." Art agreed. 


	24. That's My Idiot - (Rachel/Jimmy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel catches Jimmy committing a crime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: person a: *is doing something they shouldn't be doing in public*  
>  person b: what an idiot...  
>  person b: wait, that's my idiot!!!
> 
> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

The day had been calm and quiet, allowing Rachel, Tim and Raylan to leave the office to have lunch together. Tim opted to take them all to a diner he liked. They sat outside, under the awning, enjoying the rare cool breeze as they ate. 

Having finished her lunch first, Rachel leaned back in her chair, people watching those coming and going in the parking lot shared by the diner and a small convenience store when her eyes spotted something or more specific, _someone_.

In the parking lot, on the side where the convenience store was located, a man was siphoning gas out of a shiny brand-new pick-up truck.

Rachel shook her head in disbelief. "What an idiot." She mumbled, drawing the attention of her co-workers.

"What?" Tim asked, mouth full of his sandwich.

"Look at that idiot."

"Who? Raylan?" he smirked.

"No, not him this time." Rachel indicated where with a tilt of her head. " _That_ idiot."

Both men turned to see who Rachel was looking at and there in broad daylight was an idiot committing a crime in front of three US Marshals. 

"Well," Tim's drawl was that of a lazy cat, “who's going to go and arrest the idiot?" He looked around the table, Raylan had lost interest and had his hat over his face, however, Rachel was still staring at the man. Her eyes widening when he stood up and she got a proper look at him.

"Wait," the man turned around, "that's _my_ idiot!" Her outburst caught the attention of a few other diner goers, and made Raylan jump, removing his hat in time to see Rachel get up from her seat, and walk across the parking lot, determination in her steps. 

"Ohhh, lil' Jimmy's in trouble." Tim and Raylan watched from their table in the comfortable shade provided by the awning as Rachel was five seconds away from tearing Jimmy a new one.

"Jimmy Benedict Tolan!" Rachel shouted once she was close enough to her wayward little brother who choked on the gas he had once again started siphoning. 

She watched a Jimmy coughed, and spat gasoline out of his mouth, his eyes red with tears. 

"Rachel." His voice hoarse. He straightened up, wiping the remnants of his crime from his mouth. "How are you?" Jimmy gave her his crooked boyish smile and Rachel's eyes narrowed dangerously, his smile disappearing instantly. "Shit."

"Shit is correct." Rachel looked him up and down. "Are you that much of an idiot that you would steal gas from someone's car in broad daylight in a crowded parking lot no less. If you're gonna do dumb shit, at least make sure there are no witnesses."

Jimmy grinned at her. "Careful there Marshal; you sound as if you're saying what not to do when committing a crime." He winked. 

He had the audacity to wink at her; his older sister who was a US Marshal. Rachel inhaled deeply, trying to temper her anger, but it did not work.

"Jimmy Tolan, your ass is grass and I am going to mow it."

"Shit." 

Jimmy took off running, not getting more than three steps before Rachel tripped him. He landed hard, Rachel on him the minute he was down, wrenching his arms behind him and handcuffing him.

"What the hell Rachel?!" he whined. "Handcuffs?! Really?!"

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?” Rachel recited his rights to him.  
  
"This is ridiculous." Laying flat on his stomach, Jimmy kicked his feet like the child he really was. "I am going to tell our siblings."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "You really think they would take your side after hearing that you were stealing gas?"

"They will take my side when they hear how you manhandled me, their baby brother and threw me in cuffs."

"Oh my God." Rachel got up, pulling Jimmy to his feet. "Quit whining, you're going be spending the night in jail. Your ass will be out tomorrow morning. It's nothing you haven't gone through before."

"I can't believe this; being arrested by my own sister."

"Rather be arrested by me?" Tim asked, walking up to them, Raylan in tow. 

As soon as Jimmy saw him, the atmosphere became tense as they stared down each other.

"Marshal."

"Criminal."

"How original." Jimmy sneered.

Raylan looked to Rachel for an answer to his unasked question to which she gave a shake of her head. 

"Come on Jimmy." She led him to Tim's SUV.

"Hope you got the smell of rotten eggs off your vehicle." He taunted, throwing a smirk over his shoulder at Tim who looked murderous and five seconds away from pulling his gun and shooting Jimmy.

Rachel settled for slapping him in the back of his head. "Behave." She opened the back door and none too gently, shoved him in, before getting in on the other side.

"We can just strap him to the roof," Raylan was saying as he got into the front passenger seat, while Tim got into the driver's, "if him being in here bothers you so much."

Jimmy's protest was nipped in the bud with a warning glare from Rachel. Tim said nothing as he started the vehicle and drove off. The interior of the vehicle was quiet until Jimmy spoke. 

"Hey," Rachel looked over at Jimmy who was leaning towards her. "Don't tell dad, ok?"

Rachel rolled her eyes, "fine, don't tell dad."


	25. First Time (Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim made the first move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

It was Tim who made the first move in creating the relationship they now have. Both he and Rachel had been tiptoeing around each other with lingering looks and touches, many late nights going over case files with hamburgers from the diner down the road, many nights of falling asleep on each other's couch when the other was too exhausted to drive home, only to have breakfast together the next morning.

It reached a peak at Art's and his wife's vow renewal ceremony. Tim had asked Rachel to accompany him and she agreed. They sat close to each other during the ceremony, their hands resting in the space between their thighs, close but not touching and Tim was aware of Rachel’s glances at him from the corner of his eye. 

During the reception, Rachel had excused herself to the bathroom, unaware that Tim had followed her and when she opened to door to exit the bathroom, Tim was there, pushing her back in and locking the door behind him before claiming Rachel’s lips in a kiss as if he wanted to own her. Rachel who was initially shocked, quickly got with the programme, wrapping her arms around his neck as Tim shoved his thigh between her legs, parting them. 

Rachel groaned as he hiked her dress up, his fingers pushing her underwear to the side before diving in. Rachel broke the kiss to stifle her moan in Tim's shoulder.

"Sorry, I didn't plan for this to happen." His whispered in her ear, as his fingers worked their magic. "I don't have a condom, so my fingers will have to suffice for now."

Rachel came with a stifled whimpered, and Tim in his pants. They fixed each other up and returned to the reception, as if nothing happened, but Tim knew what they would be doing later once they were alone and he had proper protection.


	26. The Dare (Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was Raylan's fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

Rachel did it as a dare; a stupid dare put forward by Raylan. She should have known better; she was a senior and could have gotten in serious legal trouble. Tim was the young new guy; a badass in the army and was now about to make his mark in the Marshal service. 

It started when Rachel made an offhand comment to Raylan about Tim's ass looking good in a particular pair of jeans. It was no secret in their office or the courthouse that many of the women thought Tim was good looking; a nice-looking southern boy who was also a bad boy. 

The next time Tim wore those particular pair of jeans, Raylan the child that he is, dared Rachel to slap the sniper’s ass, teasing her when Rachel outright refused to take the bait, and took the time to remind Raylan of the office’s policy on sexual harassment. 

It was a late Wednesday afternoon and Rachel had gotten tired of Raylan and his jokes, when earlier Tim had dropped a stack of files right in front of her desk and bent over to pick them up, providing Rachel with a nice view of his rear end. Raylan was blowing up her phone in the few seconds it took for Tim to clean up the papers. 

Rachel, having had enough of Raylan's antics, got up from her desk to go down to the evidence room. Signing and walking through the chain-link grill, Rachel was met with the sight of Tim bending down to put back some files, his jeans stretched across his ass. Rachel stared at it then cleared her throat, greeting him as she walked pass. 

Retrieving what she needed, Rachel walked pass Tim again, this time he was standing, straightening out his shirt, not paying attention to anything in particular and Rachel not thinking about the serious repercussions her actions would have, slapped him hard on his ass. There was a moment of stunned silence, before Rachel took off like a bat out of hell. She was back at her desk, her head down by the time Tim made it back upstairs, his eyes on her as he walked to his desk.

"Mind tellin' me what that was about?" Raylan leaned over the partition separating their desks, resting his chin on his folded arms. 

"What ‘what’ was about?" Rachel asked, her eyes glued to the papers on her desk, but not seeing any of the words printed.

"The new deputy lookin' at you as if he wants to eat you alive."

Rachel's head snapped up when he said that, her eyes wide. She looked at Raylan before glancing behind him down at Tim which was a mistake on her part as his piercing eyes were staring right back at her. Rachel swallowed before looking back at Raylan and lowered her voice.

"I did the dare." 

Raylan's eyebrows met his hairline, a grin splitting his face in half. "Well, I'll be damned. Looks like he liked it by the way he was, lookin’ at you." Rachel's face heated. "Lemme know what happens between you two." He retook his seat, grin still plastered on his face.

Rachel chanced another look at Tim and saw that he was still staring at her, an eyebrow raised. She decided that she was going to kill Raylan as it was all his fault.

The rest of the week was going to be for a lack of a better term, interesting.


	27. I Wanna Ride Your Rifle (Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim has to deal with a handsy, mouthy drunk Rachel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

"Tim, I wanna ride your rifle."

Not many things surprised Tim, but those words being uttered by Rachel, into his ear in the dark corner of a bar had him choking on his beer. Rachel sat back and watched as her sometimes partner and co-worker had a coughing fit thanks to her.

"What?" He asked, throat burning, voice hoarse. It had been a tiring week for everyone in the office and Rachel had invited Tim to go out drinking with her that Friday night. He had watched as Rachel downed drink after drink while not looking even the least bit tipsy, but after hearing those words, he was rethinking her not being drunk.

Rachel smiled seductively at him, her dark eyes promising all kinds of pleasure of the carnal type. "I. Want. To. Ride. Your. Rifle." As she spoke, enunciating each word, Rachel's middle and index fingers walked their ways up Tim's thigh, stopping just shy of his crotch area where his dick was slowly hardening. He had hoped that she had gotten her words mixed up due to being drunk. But nope! Rachel wanted to _ride his rifle_. 

"Rae," Tim's hand caught her when she made to move it higher. "You're drunk and if you continue, we will be thrown out for public indecency and possibly arrested.”

The pout she gave him was adorable and as much as he secretly loved her, Tim was not going to allow Rachel to grope him in a crowded bar, while intoxicated. He could wait until they were somewhere private, and she was cold stone sober. With that said, he tossed down money to cover both their drinks and gathered her up, walking her towards the door and out into the cool night air, hoping it would clear her head some. 

Tim had been a Ranger for close to ten years, he went through severe training that had nothing on trying to keep it ‘PG’ while walking to his SUV with an intoxicated Rachel who was determined to fondle him through his jeans. 

"C'mon Tim, lemme see your rifle." She whined when Tim lifted her into the passenger seat of his vehicle.

"Sure," Tim strapped her in, "when you are sober and not under the influence of anything. He closed the door, using the short walk around the vehicle to will his erection away. The drive back to Rachel's apartment was quite noteworthy. Tim for the first time in his life, had to be fighting off the grabby hands of an attractive woman for whom he had feelings, so that they did not end up doing something they would regret later. 

Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up outside Rachel's apartment. 

"And we are here." Tim turned to look at Rachel who was already looking at him. "Do you think you can make it upstairs without molesting me?" The seductive smile he got in return answered his question. 

For the most part, there were no further incidents on the way up to Rachel's 3rd floor apartment. she had settled for sticking her hand in the back pocket of Tim's jeans, making him have to wrap his arm around her as they walked. Tim got the door open and ushered Rachel in before closing it behind him. When he turned around, Tim found himself face to face to with hungry predator in the package of a petite, 5'2" body.

Hungry eyes stared back and at him and Tim thought back on every fantasy he had of Rachel looking at him like that, but _sober_.

"No." He stopped whatever thoughts were running through her head. "You are going to get changed and go to bed, _alone_." His tone left no room for any arguments, but Rachel still found a way to get to him. 

Without missing a beat, Rachel crossed her arms at the bottom of her shirt, grabbed the hem and pulled it over her head, allowing Tim an eye-full of her choice of bra. Rachel allowed the piece of garment to drop from her finger as she kicked off her boots, unbuttoned and unzipped her pants to push them down her legs. All the while Tim's eyes were on her, following her every motion, his mouth dry from the scene unfolding before him.

Rachel the drunk minx that she was, turned, giving Tim a good look at her backside before sauntering down the hall to her bedroom. Tim was left standing there, wondering what the hell had just transpired. Once his libido was back under control, he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and went down the hallway to Rachel's bedroom. He cautiously stuck his head in through the door and saw that Rachel had passed out on top of her covers, clad only in her underwear. With a sigh, Tim fully entered her bedroom, placing the water bottle on her bedside table before gently removing the covers from beneath Rachel and covering her. 

Once he was satisfied that she was not going to puke, Tim went back out to the living room and left a note on the counter for her to find in the morning, before leaving the apartment. The next day Tim showed up back at the apartment bright and early, bearing hot coffee and breakfast. Rachel was properly hung over and Tim's only saving grace for showing up so early was that he had coffee.

Tim was enjoying seeing Rachel hungover, he had only ever seen her as a straight-lace Marshal, except for those few moments when she got sassy with whoever they were questioning or Raylan. He sat on one of the barstools at the kitchen island observing Rachel who was laying on the couch, a cool wet rag over her forehead and eyes.

"Tim?" Her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?" He answered just as softly.

"Did I do anything," she searched for the word, " _improper_ last night?"

Tim waited a beat, debating if he should tell the truth or not; but figured in the end, telling Rachel the truth of what happened was better than lying and her finding out afterwards. So, Tim decided he was going to enjoy this. In his usual southern drawl, he recounted what happened the night before.

"Well, if by 'improper' you mean, sayin' you wanna ride my rifle and grew and extra pair of hands that kept trying to feel me up. Then, yeah, you said and did improper things last night."

Rachel's groan of embarrassment quickly turned to one of pain. "I am so sorry. I don't usually get that drunk and disorderly."

Tim laughed, waving her off even though she could not see. "You don't hear me complaining. I was quite flattered; would have preferred you sober though."

Rachel removed the rag from over her eyes to squint at Tim. "What?"

"If you want to ride my rifle, or cop a feel while you're sober, please feel free." Tim spread his arms as if providing access to his body, which he was. "You'll hear no complaints from me." His facial expression lecherous. 

Rachel dropped the rag back over her eyes, groaning as Tim laughed quietly at her. 


	28. Moments With Rachel Brooks & Tim Gutterson (PART III)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Various moments in their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for #13: RACIAL SLUR
> 
> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

**1) Confession**

"I want to carve my name on your ribs." Tim whispered in the dark, his long, lethal fingers trailing down Rachel's side. "You're mine."

* * *

**2) Fight**

Their _first_ and _last_ fight was ugly. 

"Take one more step closer and I will drop you on your ass Gutterson." Rachel said from the other side of their shared bed, as Tim levelled a sniper's glare at her from where he stood on the other side.

* * *

**3) Sick**

Tim was unable to recall the last time he was sick. It must have been when he was a child; when his mother was still around to cook him soup and sponge him down when his fever got too high. 

It had been quite some time since he had even as much as a stuffy nose. However, right now he was hot enough for an egg to fry on his skin and the pain in his side was enough for tears to leak from his eyes. 

That is how Rachel found him, curled up on their bed, sweaty and in pain. They later found out that his appendix had ruptured inside him.

* * *

**4) Car**

Rachel owned a shiny black, four door, hard top '67' Chevy Impala that she did not allow anyone to drive, not even Tim. 

* * *

**5) Family**

Rachel came from a large blended family, having two biological sisters and three stepbrothers whom she loved dearly just as much as they loved her. When Rachel introduced Tim (whom to this day will never admit to how nervous he was) to them, her family welcomed him with open arms.

* * *

**6) Hair**

Tim loved Rachel's hair, whether she had it in her natural curls or she straightened it with her flat iron or had it in braids. He loved that it always smelled like vanilla and sugar cookies. He loved that her head came up to his chest, so that when he hugged her, he could bend his head just a little bit further and inhale her scent.

* * *

**7) Jeans**

Tim loved seeing Rachel in jeans. Seeing the material hug her thighs, knowing he was going to be between them later.

* * *

**8) Pistol Whip**

Tim was an ex-army Ranger sniper for fuck's sake. How the hell did a 5'2" slip of a woman manage to pistol whip him and in the same breath hog-tie him? He was never underestimating big innocent looking brown doe eyes and a sweet southern smile again.

* * *

**9) Chase**

It was a training exercise, but everyone still remembers to this day, when Rachel outran Tim whose task it was to catch her. 

* * *

**10) Bees**

Rachel is deadly allergic to bees. Tim took it upon himself to install mesh screens on all their windows and doors, and has an EpiPen in each room, their vehicles and at work. 

* * *

**11)** **Little Red Dress**

Tim has heard that every woman should have a little black dress in her closet. However, Rachel has a little red dress that he loves seeing her it. It hugs her curves in just the right places, stopping at mid-thigh and he loves even more, peeling it off of her when they get home.

* * *

**12) Baking**

Tim hates cooking. He can cook; just hates it. But when it comes to baking, he loves it. 

* * *

**13) Relationship**

While their co-workers or Rachel's family did not bat an eyelid at their relationship, other folks had some thoughts on interracial coupling especially living in the South. There were times when they would go to a bar or just walking on the street hand in hand and someone would just have to comment; often times their words or insults were aimed at Rachel who held her head high, held Tim's hand just a bit tighter and continued walking.

However, the first time someone referred to Rachel as a 'nigga bitch' to her face, well Tim was not about to allow _that_ pass. He dropped Rachel home with a smile and a kiss. Called in a favour, found where the man lived and paid him a visit to inform him why it was a good idea to mind his own damn business.

* * *

**14) Supernatural**

_'Supernatural'_ was _their_ show and they _always_ watched it _together_. That is why Rachel had to act just as surprised as Tim, when it was revealed that Dean became a demon at the end of Season 9. She could not afford for Tim to find out that she had watched that particular episode without him, before watching the entire season with him because of a semi-spoiler she saw online.

* * *

**15) Rifle**

Rachel will admit that the first time she laid eyes on ex-Army Ranger sniper, Tim Gutterson, she had a passing thought that he was hot. However, the first time she saw him assemble his rifle with ease and take a damn impossible shot, well thoughts of riding him, their skin slick with sweat and rubbing against each other flitted through her mind. 

* * *

**16) Rain**

It wasn't Rachel's fault; it was the rain. Both her and Tim had gone to speak with a witness out in the middle of nowhere. On the way back to the office, their vehicle got a flat tyre and Tim hopped out to change it. While in the middle of that task, there was a sudden downpour that left Tim soaking wet, his white Henley shirt clinging to his abs and extremely see through. Tim was not bothered by it, as he was never bothered by a lot. However, Rachel felt hot under the collar and her eyes kept glancing to where she could see skin under his shirt.

* * *

**17) Bodyguard**

Someone ordered a hit on Rachel, and until they found out who and neutralised them, Tim was assigned to watch her back 24/7. Something he took seriously, and something that was driving Rachel crazy with having the starring man in all her fantasies stay at her apartment.

  
Looking back, Rachel was not happy to have been the target of a millionaire drug lord or a hitman, but during those two weeks Tim spent glued to her side, they got closer than co-workers should and as they say, the rest is history.

* * *

**18)** **Gunfire**

Rachel was not aware of the gun man standing outside the windows of the small diner she and Tim had stopped at for lunch. So, when he started shooting, Tim tackled her to the floor roughly, covering her body with his as the diner was sprayed with bullets.

* * *

**19) Bed**

Rachel liked Tim's bed. Looking at him, most might think the former Army Ranger sniper had a sleeping bag as a bed, but Rachel knew he had a nice firm queen-sized bed. She loved sleeping on it, with Tim spooning her, but what she really loved was Tim pinning her to it with strength one would not know he has from looking at him, as he made love to her.

* * *

**20) Kiss**

The first time Tim and Rachel kissed was in Tim's SUV. It was a late Friday, night and they had gotten dinner at a nearby diner, staying and chatting until it was closing time. Tim drove Rachel home, stopping outside her apartment. Rachel had turned to say good night, her smile bright in the dark cabin of the SUV, the streetlight barely affording them any light when Tim lunged across the gear stick and captured her lips with his.

Rachel startled by the action gasped and Tim snaked his tongue into her mouth, deepening the kiss. 

They kept kissing for twenty minutes.

* * *

**21) Murder**

Tim was going to murder Rachel. He knew it was her, no matter how much she denied it, who leaked his naked baby pictures to their co-workers.

* * *

**22) Dodge Ball**

Rachel is competitive. Dodge ball is her game and Tim still remembers the bruises he received courtesy of her during the last inter-office competition they had.

* * *

**23) Nightmares**

Tim suffered from dreadful nightmares from his time in the army and growing up in an abusive household. There were many nights when he would wake drenched in sweat, the sheets tangled around his body, his heart pounding. However, with Rachel wrapped in his arms, he slept peacefully.

* * *

**24) Name**

On Tim's birth certificate, his name read: ' **Tim Ezekiel Eugene Gutterson'**

**  
**This is something Rachel laughed herself silly over, much to Tim's chagrin.

* * *

**25) "Are you always this quiet?"**

Tim looked up at the question to see Rachel, the Marshal in charge of his training in front of his desk. 

He shrugged, "only speak when I have to ma'am."

Rachel left him alone. 

* * *

**26) "D'you wanna go on a date?"**

Rachel slowly looked up from the file she was reading to see Tim, the new guy of four months, standing beside her desk, hands in his pockets, red in his cheeks, as his eyes held hers. He was flustered, nervous but he still held her gaze.

"You do know how that would look? A senior dating a juniors.Worse when that senior is a black woman." Her voice calm, heart pounding.

Tom nodded, his eyes darting around the room before taking a seat in her visitor's chair. "You asked if I was always quiet." He licked his lips, Rachel's eyes following his tongue. "Lemme take you out and show you that I am not that quiet."

Rachel arched an elegant brow. "That can be taken two ways Deputy Gutterson."

The grin she received was rakish and had her stomach doing flips.

* * *

**27) "Don't be such a bitch."**

Rachel's hand cracked hard across Tim's cheek the moment that word left his mouth. Tim slowly turned his head to look at her, his cheek burning. Rachel's eyes were filled with tears.

"Don't you dare," her voice shook, and she pointed in his face, "ever call me that again."

Tim stared down at her, before Rachel left the room and their apartment.

* * *

**28) "Is that my shirt?"**

Rachel looked down at her body, as if she was unable to recall what she was wearing before looking back at Tim.

"Maybe?"

Tim released a huff, "I spent fifteen minutes looking for that shirt this morning Rach."

Rachel shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee, both of them being warmed by the evening sun on their back porch. "It's very comfortable."

"I know." Tim said flatly, "that's why it is my favourite."

"Well go find a new favourite shirt, this one's mine."

Rachel was lucky Tim loved her enough to relinquish his favourite shirt to her, and he would even admit that it looked better on her.

* * *

**30) Well shit. - Sequel to 'Pistol Whip'**

Rachel wanted the floor to swallow her up immediately. Art had just introduced her to her new trainee...the same guy she had pistol whipped and left hog-tied in the parking lot of the bar she went to the weekend before.

And just like before, the ~~boy's~~ man's eyes roamed over her, his eyes twinkling while his lips remained in a flat line.

"Please to meet you ma'am." He stuck out his hand, all polite southern boy charm.

Rachel grasped his hand, felt him squeeze. "Please to meet you as well Deputy Gutterson." Her voice strained. 

Tim gave her a dangerous half smile, "I look forward to working with you."

Rachel was in deep shit.


	29. Drastic Measures (Rachel & Jimmy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy is shot. Rachel makes a hard decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

“You are going to be staying with Sam indefinitely.” That was the first thing Rachel said to her baby brother once he was awake and coherent.

Jimmy perked up at that. “What?” His voice shrill, drowning out the constant beeping of the heart monitor reminding Rachel that he was still breathing… _for now_ , a small voice in her head reminded her.

Rachel dragged a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath and releasing it. “When you were run off the road, I told Sam and _only_ Sam, what had happened.” Her voice was strong, even though her insides were quivering in fear. “You might not be so lucky next time Jimbo, and there will be a next time.”

Jimmy looked away, his face and pretty blue eyes filled with shame and regret. He looked so small in the hospital bed, dark circles around his eyes, looking paler than he really was.

“Jimmy, I honestly do not know where we went wrong with you.” His blue eyes flashed with anger that was instantly gone the moment Rachel took hold of his hand, squeezing it, hoping that he would understand.

“It is not too late to change. Go and stay with Sam in D.C.” Rachel all but pleaded. “She will take care of you.”

“You just want to get rid of me.” He accused, a single tear sliding down his cheek.

“I want you alive.” Rachel snapped. “I want to see you turn 21 for fuck’s sake. I want to see you make something of yourself, and see you live to be 30, 40, see you grow old.” Her voice filled with tears, softened. “I do not want to have to bury you. Please, do not make me have to bury you.”

Jimmy’s heart broke having made his sister say those words to him; of making her cry. It showed when more tears fell from his eye.

“What will I do at Sam’s?”

Rachel felt as if she was getting somewhere with him. “Anything. She already has a job lined up for you with a mechanic she knows.” She squeezed his hand again. “Use that big brain and those hands for something else aside from criminal activities.”

Jimmy laid back on the pillows, allowing Rachel to wipe away the tears from his face.

“When do I leave?”

“The doctor says that you will be discharged tomorrow and cleared for travelling in two weeks. Until then, you will be staying with me, and Sam is going to come and get you.”

“Billy and Dex are going to have a field day with this.”

Billy and Dex, the second and third oldest of their family had a lot to say about Jimmy’s chosen life of crime. They both had quiet tempers and Jimmy had not taken to them, being the youngest and last addition, he had clung more to Rachel, something that is still evident.

“Don’t worry about them. Just concentrate on healing. Sam and I will deal with them, when we cross that bridge.”

“What about Misty?”

Misty, the oldest out of them all who was in law enforcement herself. She always threatened to beat Jimmy’s ass into next year, but he always evaded her whenever she came to visit.

“Well,” Rachel looked at him with sympathy, “looks like Misty is finally going to get the chance to beat your ass.”

She laughed when Jimmy groaned, “please do not tell her. Can’t Sam be the only one to know what happened?”

Rachel felt for him, she really did, but there was only so much she could do and only a small amount of time they had before their siblings all knew how close Jimmy had came to dying.

“I am sorry Jimbo.” Rachel combed her fingers through his hair, something that always calmed him as a child, and it stilled worked to this day. “But they are all going to find out. However, Sam and I will do our best to calm their wrath.”

Jimmy was falling back asleep thanks to the pain killers in his system, and his body still healing.

“Hey Rae,” his words slurring as he fought to stay awake. “I know I make your life a living hell.”

Rachel frowned, “don’t you ever say that Jimmy Tolan. You do not make my life a living hell.”

Jimmy’s smile was lopsided. “I don’t make it easy for you;but thanks for always taking care of me”

“Yeah, well, that’s my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass-little-brother.” She smiled down at him, his breathing slowing as he drifted off into sleep.

“Hey Rae?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t tell dad?”

Rachel swallowed; their father was going to kill them all when he finds out what happened. “Don’t tell dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “That’s my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass-little-brother.” – Dean Winchester to Sam Winchester, Supernatural: All Hell Breaks Loose, Part 1.


	30. What A Man (Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raylan attempts to play matchmaker.
> 
> Tim is a little shit.
> 
> Rachel has a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to 'Temptation'
> 
> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

It had been three weeks since Tim's late-night conference room confession and Rachel was unable to forget it. During work hours, she could feel Tim's eyes on her; following her every move, but when she looked at him, his eyes were always focused on something else. 

His words, _"You're teasing me"_ and _"I should be the one biting it"_ replayed in her head on a loop, so much so that Rachel, for the first time in forever that she could remember, made an error on a report for the third time in one day. She bit her lip in frustration, grabbing the sheet of paper from the desk, Rachel turned in her chair to access the shredder, when she saw Tim at his desk staring at her. His eyes glanced down at her lips before meeting her eyes once more, something sparkling in the blue of his.

Rachel averted her eyes, continuing with her task. With her report finally done and free of any errors, she left it on Art's desk before leaving work for the day. She ran into Raylan in the parking lot.

"Whoa, where's the fire?" Ever the gentleman, he opened her car door for her, but kept it open as he looked at the slightly panicked look on Rachel's face. "You ok there Rach?"

"Yeah," Rachel's eyes shot to the side door when it opened, breathing a sigh a relief when it was Nelson who stepped out, waving at them both as he headed to his car. "I just have a lot on my mind."

Raylan nodded, his eyes still on her. "It wouldn't have anything to do with a certain Deputy would it?" Rachel's eyes snapped to his and that was all the answer he needed. "Has he done anything to you?" He felt his protective side rearing its head, even though he knew Rachel was the last woman who would ever need protecting by a man.

"What? No, no, he didn't do anything. But how'd you guess?"

"The ex-sniper is not as sneaky as he'd like to think." Raylan winked at her conspiratorially. "Anyone with eyes, especially the person who sits between you both, can tell when he's staring at you."

Rachel felt her cheeks warm from a lot more than just the afternoon sun. She was about to say something, when the side door opened again and she quietly cursed. The starring distraction of the last three weeks walked out, his eyes honing in on her and then Raylan almost immediately. Rachel wanted to hide, but there was nowhere to do so.

"He's coming over." Raylan not so helpfully pointed out.

"I can see that." Rachel said through the side of her mouth. 

Tim came to stand on the other side of the door, allowing him a clear view of Rachel.

"Everything ok?" He asked in that damn drawl that had ladies of all ages swooning in their office building.

"Yeah," Raylan's smile was just a bit too big and friendly for Rachel's comfort. "Just asking good ol' Rach here what she had planned for this evening."

Rachel levelled him with a glare. "Really? You were?"

"I was," Raylan didn't miss a beat. "And fortunately for us, she is completely free to come out drinking with us." He ignored the kick to his shin courtesy of Rachel who was doing her best to disappear from both men's sight.

"I am not-"

"Well, I will see you both at Lee's, 5:30 p.m." Raylan spoke over her. He closed her car door, clapped Tim on his shoulder and walked away.

Rachel was going to suffocate Raylan with his own hat and then feed his body to the crocodiles. She nearly flew out of her skin when she was a knock on the car window. She had utterly forgotten that Tim was still standing outside her car. She rolled the window down, regretting it when Tim bent down to be on her eye level.

"You ok?"

Christ Almighty, those blue eyes and southern drawl were going to be the death of her.

"Yeah."

"See you later?" For a deadly sniper, Tim looked pretty uncertain.

"Yeah," Rachel reassured him. "If only to beat Raylan in pool and take his money." She gave him a small smile, which he returned.

"Ok, see you later ma'am."

Rachel ignored the thrilled shiver that ran down her spine from hearing Tim address her with such a title. Most women older than the age of twenty-five hated being referred to as ' _ma'am_ '. However, when Tim said it, it sounded like a promise of dark sensual pleasure; and from the small smug smile on his face, he knew it. She had to get out of there before she did or said anything to embarrass herself. 

"See you later." She rolled the window back up and drove out of the parking lot, glancing back in the review mirror to see Tim watching, before she turned the corner and disappeared from view. 

* * *

Rachel was never one to stress over what she wore. Work was tailored suits, jeans on Fridays, dates (which she hasn't been on one in about three years) were dresses and heels, going out with her friends was jeans, a nice blouse and either wedges or sandals. Deciding that Raylan was a friend and Tim was - well, Tim was definitely _something_ , she just didn't know what yet, Rachel chose the black pair of jeans that looked like a second skin on her, the sunshine yellow blouse her mother bought her for Christmas, that was modest in the front, with the back cut out and sandals. Her hair was done up in a high bun, showing off her neck and golden hoops adorned her ears.

Satisfied with her appearance, Rachel left her apartment and headed to Lee's bar. The college students had not hit the bar as yet, considering it was still early in the evening, but when Rachel arrived, Tim and Raylan were already seated at a table, waiting on her. Tim spotted her first, and Rachel did not miss the way in which his eyes roamed over her body from head to toe, alighting a slow burning heat in her stomach. 

"Gentlemen." She greeted, sitting in the chair Raylan had pulled out for her.

"What's your poison?" Raylan asked, not sitting back down.

"Tequila." 

Rachel and Tim answered simultaneously, glancing at each other before Rachel looked back at Raylan who had a shit eating grin on his face.

"Nine tequila shots and three beers coming right up." He spun on his heels, walking over to the bar, leaving Tim and Rachel with each other.

Rachel knew what Raylan was doing and internally rolled her eyes. Raylan for all his modern-day cowboy shit, was one of the biggest matchmakers she had ever met. Within three months of Raylan being transferred to the Lexington Marshal's Office, he had managed to set up a younger lawyer who had eyes for a court clerk; and reunited a divorce couple who worked in the courthouse. It seems that Rachel and Tim were his new project.

"You look beautiful." Tim's low voice broke Rachel out of her thoughts and she glanced up to see that she had his undivided attention.

"Thank you." She made the innocent mistake of biting her bottom lip and saw the instant change in Tim's demeanour. His pupils immediately dilated as his eyes locked on her lips, and he inhaled deeply. She slowly released her lip from between her teeth.

"That's a dangerous game you're playing Marshal Brooks." Tim's voice was every woman's wet dream. It had gotten impossibly lower, his Texan drawl even more pronounced. 

Rachel almost jumped out of her skin when she felt Tim's leg rub against hers and that heat in her belly exploded into a blazing fire. And damn the ex-sniper sitting in front of her; Tim knew exactly what he was doing. And where was Raylan? There was barely a crowd in the bar, and he was taking quite some time to return with their drinks. Rachel glanced over to see him and Lee (the bartender/owner) at the bar laughing. 

"Hey," her attention was on Tim again. "Remembered what I told you?" His eyes glanced down at her lips before meeting her eyes again and Rachel realised that she was unconsciously biting her lip again.

"You have told me so many things since meeting me." Rachel was going to play dumb. The look Tim gave her said he knew exactly what she was doing. 

Tim leaned forward, lessening the space between them that the small table provided. "Then allow me to remind you." His voice dark and dangerous. "you're driving me insane. Teasing me and I should be the one biting your lip."

"And I said, you would be in a world of hurt if you try it." Rachel's voice did not waver, but she did not sound so certain, that she would make good on her promise, if Tim made a move on her. 

"That's a risk I am willing to take.” Tim winked at her. “Nothing like a little pain to spice things up." 

Rachel likened Tim to a wolf eyeing a piece of meat in that moment. She had a retort ready when Raylan returned, drinks in hand, looking between them both. 

"You kids played nice?"

Rachel rolled her eyes and accepted her drinks from Raylan. They each downed their shots of tequila before drinking their beers. Conversation flowed about that week's criminal catch, Raylan and Winona's impending baby arrival, Rachel's upcoming leave, which she was using to go home and visit her family.

It wasn't until Tim already on his third beer and fifth shot of tequila, suggested a game of pool, that things got interesting. Rachel knew exactly how she looked in her jeans, especially bent over a pool table. She could feel Tim's eyes on her and see Raylan's infuriating smirks and eyebrow raises aimed at her. Upon missing her next shot, Tim took Rachel's spot and she went to stand next to Raylan.

"Go stand behind him." Raylan said through the side of his mouth.

"Why?"

"So, you can ogle his ass, like he was doing to you." He winked at Rachel who rolled her eyes. 

Upholding his title as an ex-Army Ranger sniper, Tim sunk all the balls on the table without breaking a sweat. He stood up, a small smug smirk on his face as he eyed Rachel and Raylan.

"Well," Raylan straightened up, placing his pool-stick back on the holder, "I am feeling thirsty. Going to get some more drinks." He walked off, in the direction of the bar, once more leaving Rachel and Tim alone with each other. 

In the meantime, Rachel racked the balls and broke them, starting another game to kill time until Raylan got back. She bent over the table, eyes on the striped ball she wanted to sink, lined up her pool-stick taking aim, her bottom lip caught between her teeth when there was a sudden strike against her ass. Rachel straightened up and spun around in mere seconds, coming face to face with blue eyes. Tim was so far in her personal space Rachel had to lean back a little, her ass pressing against the edge of the pool table, so that her body was not pressed against Tim's harder one.

"What. The. Hell. Was. That?" Rachel's restraint on not decking Tim was stretched thin and ready to snap. "Choose your words carefully." She warned. 

Tim smirked down at her, lust and mirth swimming in his blue eyes. "Your ass has been looking delicious in those jeans all evening." He shrugged, "I gave into temptation."

Rachel was at a loss for words. "I ought to kick your ass right here and now." She may have been short and petite, but whenever Rachel would get serious and start making threats that she could and would carry out, persons tended to back off. However, it had the exact opposite reaction on Tim. If anything, he seemed turned on by the prospect of Rachel putting him in his place; something made evident by him crowding further into her personal space. 

"Well, I certainly wouldn't mind if you wanted to get physical with me." His eyes were completely dilated, only a thin ring of blue left, his voice becoming husky and Rachel could feel herself responding to him. Tim went in for the kill "I like it when things get a little rough, _ma'am_."

Rachel attempted to take a deep breath, but only inhaled his cologne. She needed out of there immediately, before something highly inappropriate with her junior colleague took place in public. 

"Where the hell is Raylan?" She looked over to the bar and found him fully engrossed in a conversation with Lee once more, and another patron. Rachel felt gun calloused fingers on her chin, gently turning her back to face Tim who seemed to have moved impossibly closer.

"Eyes on me _ma'am_." Tim whispered, his breath brushing over Rachel's cheek. His thumb brushed her bottom lip and Rachel inhaled deeply. 

"Deputy-"

"Not on the clock." Tim smirked.

"Tim," the sound of glass breaking had them separating to see that some drunk guy had taken a swing at Raylan and missed, only to go crashing into a waitress with a tray of now broken glassed. "We should probably go help Raylan." Rachel glanced back at Tim who nodded, allowing her to take the lead as they walked over to where their friend was. 

* * *

Back in her apartment, Rachel couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that her night was cut short because of a drunken idiot, and just when things were on the right side of dangerous with Tim. That thought stopped Rachel in her tracks, one of her sandals hanging from her fingers as she straightened up.

Did she want something to happen between her and Tim? She would admit that he was very attractive in a dangerous sort of way. But did she really want to become intimate with him. To have him run those competent hands over her body, as his Texan drawl whispered filthy things in her ear. To feel his hard body pressed against hers without the barrier of clothes between them.

Yes, she most certainly did.

Rachel face palmed. _"Shit."_

****


	31. ♫...Screaming My Lungs Out For You...♫ (Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ♫...Right now, I'm shameless  
> Screamin' my lungs out for ya...♫

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and summary: Shameless by Camila Cabello
> 
> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

**Don't speak, no, don't try**

**It's been a secret for the longest time**

Tim pounded into Rachel relentlessly, the headboard of her bed hitting the wall repeatedly. He had her legs spread wide leaving nothing covered, taking what he wanted and giving her back tenfold. Their skin was covered in sweat, Tim's hair no longer combed back, but hanging down in his face, plastered to his forehead. The bedsheets were tangled around their bodies. There were vivid red scratch marks along his biceps and his back courtesy of Rachel's nails. 

Rachel was unable to do or say anything but grip her sheets tight. Her breath driven out of her lungs with each powerful thrust. It was as if Tim was trying to prove a point; trying to get back at her, for what she attempted to hide.

**Don't run (oh), no, don't hide**

**Been running from it for the longest time**

Rachel believed that she was doing a good job of keeping her attraction to Tim a secret, but she was mistaken. The sniper's eyes saw how Rachel looked at him like a meal she wanted to devour, and he made a move, cornering her and making her weak, until he had her right where he wanted, _beneath him_. 

**So many mornings, I woke up confused** **  
****In my dreams, I do anything I want to you** **  
****My emotions are naked, they're taking me out of my mind**

This scene, of Tim in Rachel's bed, both of them naked and wrapped up in each other was only something she had ever dreamed about. And on those lonely nights when her fingers would explore her body, she fantasized that he was there with her. 

**Right now, I'm shameless** **  
****Screamin' my lungs out for ya**  
  


Her body arched, her fingers a death grip on the sheets, as she screamed Tim's name for all to hear who it was that was making her come so hard Rachel swore, she blacked out for a few seconds. 

**Not afraid to face it** **  
****I need you more than I want to** **  
****Need you more than I want to** **  
****Show me you're shameless** **  
****Write it on my neck, why don't ya?** **  
****And I won't erase it** **  
****I need you more than I want to** **  
****I need you more than I want to**

 **  
**Tim was smug, that he was able to make Rachel lose all control and scream herself hoarse. He was sure that her neighbours knew his name. He was also pleased with the ~~claiming~~ marks that littered her neck, breasts, hips, and the inside of her thighs courtesy of his mouth. 

  
**No, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now** **  
****No, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now** **  
****No, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now** **  
****No, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now** **  
  
**

Initially, when Tim began his chase, Rachel had rebuffed his not so subtle advances. The first time he made a move was a few months after Raylan had arrived, and Tim was no longer the 'new guy' in the office. It had been a slow week, and Rachel was returning old case files to the file room when she sensed that she was no longer alone. Glancing behind her, she saw Tim leering at her; something dangerous in those cornflower blue eyes of his.

Rachel was not prepared for the onslaught he was about to unleash on her. 

"I know something you don't know." He stated, a smirk on his face, and a low heat began building in Rachel's stomach from seeing that cocky look on his face. 

"What?"

Tim stalked closer to her, and Rachel felt as though she was the target in his rifle scope. He didn't stop until he was well within the bubble of her personal space. 

"I see the way you look at me." He whispered and Rachel's heartbeat skyrocketed. "And," Tim licked his lips, Rachel's eyes following the motion. "I am rather interested in what you want to do." He gave her a salacious wink.

Rachel met his gaze and held it for a heartbeat. "This is highly inappropriate deputy."

"Inappropriate is my middle name." Tim joked, raising his hands to brace on the filing cabinet, effectively trapping Rachel between it and his body. 

"Tim, this," Rachel gestured between them, "can and will _never_ happen."

Tim smiled as if Rachel had said something funny and dropped his arms. "Never say never _ma'am_." 

**So we're there, now it's real** **  
****Now that you have me, do you want me still?** **  
****My kisses are history, they go back a long time, uh** **  
****And I'm tired of loving somebody that's not mine, no**

Tim wasn't a sniper and one of the best in the business for no reason. His eyes followed Rachel like a hawk after that encounter, much to the annoyance of his senior. He was lucky to not have a sexual harassment claim filed against him, especially with what happened a few weeks later.

 **My kisses are history, they go back a long time, uh** **  
****And I'm tired of loving somebody that's not mine, no**

Their first kiss happened on a stakeout. Much to the surprise of both Rachel and Tim, they thought Tim's black SUV was hidden among the trees, as they watched the lone cabin surrounded by nothing but a wide stretch of land.

They thought that until Rachel's eyes caught the beam of a flashlight heading in their direction. 

"Shit."

Tim followed her gaze before looking back at Rachel. "What excuse do we have for being out here, well removed from civilization this time of night?"

Rachel thought about it, glancing down at her hands before doing a double take. The ring finger of her left hand was still marked by the wedding band that was no longer there. Her eyes made contact with Tim's and he seemed to have been on the same wavelength as her, because he was suddenly removing his jacket, messing up his hair and stretching across the console for Rachel who had barely gotten out of her own jacket and pulled the first three buttons on her blouse before Tim claimed her lips in a passionate kiss. 

Tim had one hand cupping the back of her neck, the other high on her ribcage dangerously close to her breast. Rachel hands were twisted in the front of his shirt, crushing it beyond recognition when the was a tapping on the SUV window. Jumping apart with a fright, they both played their parts well for the blushing, kind face middle-aged gentleman who happened upon their activities. 

They explained their late-night rendezvous, with Rachel blushing and Tim doing his best to straighten his shirt.

The man laughed, "it's ok. I am used to folks coming out here." He winked at them, before bidding them a good night and walking away.

They watched him leave. 

"You'd never thing that he is a violent bank robber from that exchange." Tim commented dryly.

Rachel nodded, unable to speak or hear anything over the beating of her heart, from the kissed they shared. 

After that moment of necessary passion, Tim redoubled his efforts in chasing Rachel. 

**So many mornings I woke up confused** **  
****In my dreams, I do anything I want to you** **  
****My emotions are naked, they're taking me out of my mind (mind)**

His second attempt happened purely by chance. Rachel was out one Saturday night with friends at the same bar he was at. Even though Tim did not approach her, he made sure that Rachel was aware of his quiet presence and gaze in her direction for the time she was there. It worked, because Rachel kept glancing in his direction, and whenever their eyes met, she would quickly look away, but he saw the small smile on her face. 

**Right now, I'm shameless** **  
****Screamin' my lungs out for ya** **  
****Not afraid to face it** **  
****I need you more than I want to** **  
****Need you more than I want to** **  
****Show me you're shameless** **  
****Write it on my neck, why don't ya?** **  
****And I won't erase it** **  
****I need you more than I want to** **  
****I need you more than I want to**

The third time Tim cornered her, was in a hospital room. He, Rachel and Raylan had been involved in a shoot-out and while Tim was injury free, and Raylan’s vest stopped the bullets that hit him giving him a few bruises, Rachel was not so lucky. She had taken a bullet to the arm, through and through. She got the wound sewn up at the hospital and got a clean bill of health to leave, with a prescription for antibiotics.

She was in the process of putting back on her blouse when the hospital door opened and Tim walked in, closing and locking it behind him. Tim looked at how she was struggling to get her wounded arm into the sleeve of her blouse.

"Need some help?" He offered.

Rachel eyed him warily and with a sigh nodded. "Yeah."

 **No, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now** **  
****No, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now** **  
****No, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now** **  
****No, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now**

Tim’s fingers almost drove Rachel crazy as they slid over her skin more than necessary in assisting her in getting dressed. Rachel had to slap his hands away when he attempted to button her blouse, smirking and watching as her tempting skin disappeared with closed button. 

**There's just inches in between us** **  
****I want you to give in, I want you to give in, oh** **  
****There is tension in between us**

Rachel knew better than to think he would have left her alone after that; she should have known better, but still her breath caught in her throat when she looked up into the lust darken eyes of her junior co-worker.

"Tim-"

"That night," he cut her off, hunger written on his face, "in the woods, the things I wanted to do to you while I had my hands on you."

Rachel would have spontaneously combusted on the spot right there, and she would not have cared. 

"Your breast," Tim's voice was a growl, and Rachel could feel herself getting wet, feel the tension rising in the room as the inches between them decreased. "My hand was a few inches from it, and all I wanted to do was move it higher and _feel you_." 

Rachel wondered when they had gotten so close; with her pressed against the bed and Tim pressed against her front. 

"I went home that night," Tim's voice was a low whisper, dark with unbridled lust, "took my hard cock in hand and remembering the feel of you beneath my hands, I stroked myself to completion."

Rachel was at a loss for words when Tim moved again, this time taking her lips in a filthy kiss. Demanding entrance with his tongue and Rachel was weak and gave in to him.

 **I just wanna give in** **  
****And I don't care if I'm forgiven**

Tim lifted her up on the bed, using his hips to spread her thighs, situating himself between them, as Rachel's fingers found themselves in his hair. Their kiss was rush, wanting to taste each other. Tim's hands moved up from her waist, to her ribcage and finally to her breasts which he squeezed, and Rachel's moan was swallowed by him.

They were lost in each other, that it wasn't until there was a rapid banging on the door and someone from outside asking if Rachel was ok, that they broke a part panting. Rachel didn't even give it a second thought before hightailing it out of the room and pass the confused doctor who looked at her rapidly retreating figure, then to a red-face Tim. 

**Right now, I'm shameless** **  
****Screamin' my lungs out for ya** **  
****Not afraid to face it** **  
****I need you more than I want to** **  
****Need you more than I want to** **  
****Show me you're shameless** **  
****Write it on my neck, why don't ya?** **  
****And I won't erase it** **  
****I need you more than I want to** **  
****I need you more than I want to**

Tim's fourth attempt found him at Rachel's apartment at 9:38 p.m. two months after the shooting incident. 

As soon as the door opened, Tim asked, "are you really going to ignore what is between us?"

Rachel who had been enjoying a quiet Friday night of wine and Netflix was not amused to see Tim at her door, looking as delicious as he did in a pair of black fitted jeans, black boots, a navy blue henley and a light jacket.

"You are one persistent bastard." 

Tim's smirk was infuriating. "You're trying to tell me that you didn't enjoy seeing me shirtless on Wednesday?" He leaned against the door jamb, hand in his pockets, looking much like the bad boy her mother always warned her about. 

Wednesday had been for the lack of a better term, an interesting day. A suspect they had been chasing, decided to spray green paint at them. Tim who had been at the forefront got the most of it, while Raylan got a few splashes, the paint missed Rachel who laughed her ass off at Tim who was covered in paint from his head down to the hem of his shirt.

Once the suspect had been arrested for assaulting three U.S. Marshal's Tim had gone back to his SUV and right there with the trunk open, stripped off his shirt and cleaned off what he could of the paint. Rachel who had been speaking with another Marshal caught sight of him and promptly loss her train of thought, it was a good thing the Marshal was called away, because if they had been paying attention they would have seen the lust clear as day in Rachel's eyes.

Tim as if sensing her stare, looked up from his task and smirked, an eyebrow raised. Rachel knowing, she was caught, looked him up and down coolly before walking off to speak with Raylan. She felt his eyes on her back. It wasn't the first time she was seeing Tim shirtless, and just as before she wondered what it would be like to feel his muscles beneath her fingers. 

Recalling that memory, Rachel's eyes trailed down his torso.

"You can see it again." Rachel's eyes snapped up to meet Tim's, her eyes trailing back down when he raised the hem of his shirt, showing the v-cut of his torso, and Rachel's mouth salivated with the need to bite that bone. "You can see that and a lot more." He whispered the last part and that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Rachel fisted the collar of his shirt, and pulled him inside her apartment, slamming the door shut and slamming Tim up against, plastering her body against his, claiming his lips in a kiss. Tim kissed back just as hard, his fingers a tight grip on her hips, lifting her up and Rachel wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning when she felt his hard bulge against her core. 

**No, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now** **  
No, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now  
No, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now  
No, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now**

That led to where they were now; entangled in the sheets of Rachel's bed, doing their best to get their breathing under control. Tim’s head was pillowed on Rachel’s naked breast; his head rising and falling with each breath she took. Rachel carded her fingers through his sweaty hair, a feeling of euphoria encompassing her entire being.

“Hey,” she felt Tim’s head shifting to look at her, his breath warm across her nipple and skin. “You ok?”

Rachel smiled, her eyes closed, “right now, I’m feeling shameless.”


	32. Musical Chairs (Rachel/Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a piece of music, for every moment in life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Folks,
> 
> If you are a lover of country music (or music in general), Marvel movies, Supernatural, Justified, and other t.v. shows, cute and uplifting quotes, and tattoos, then please go and check out my friend's Instagram page @Sd25g.
> 
> A gentle reminder, that if you have a problem with black people, then please steer clear of her page. She does not need anyone throwing hate her way, because like me, she is black. We already have enough of that in the world, as is evidenced by recent events plastered across many news channels. 
> 
> So, pop over for a look whenever you can, and stay safe everyone. 
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> Regards,
> 
> Jack_Wilder  
> _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
> Lyrical sequel to 'Halle-fuckin-lujah' & 'Say It Ain't So'
> 
> The events (songs) take place after 'Halle-fuckin-lujah’, and during and after 'Say It Ain't So'. The stories are in no particular sequence. 
> 
> If you see any errors, please to POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> ENJOY!!!
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.

**1)** **♫** **There's nothing more dangerous than a boy with charm** **♫**

Rachel knew just how dangerous Tim was, when it came to weapons and even his bare hands. However, during the few months she had been training him, even though he was a man of few words, except when they were alone in each other's presence; Tim became even more dangerous when he turned on the charm on unsuspecting folks to get what he wanted. Rachel usually stood back and watched as it happened, pitying the fools who fell for his sweet words and smiles, when she knew he was nothing but a snake with blue eyes.

* * *

2) **♫** **I don't know who you think you are** **  
But before the night is through  
I wanna do bad things with you ****♫**

Tim had no clue, who the badass-take-no-shit woman, who knocked him flat on his ass in the dead drug lord's office was. Once he was safely back in his apartment, he set Mark on the mission of finding out just who she was. When Mark presented his findings, Tim was more than intrigued.

By the end of the week, he had submitted his application to join the U.S. Marshals. He had been considering going into a more legit line of work, to make use of his unique skill set, and the time was right to make that change. 

* * *

**3)** **♫** **When you came in, the air went out**

 **And every shadow filled up with doubt** **♫**

Rachel barely restrained herself, from making a scene in the middle of the office, when she was introduced to the newest member of their team.

U.S. Deputy Marshal Tim Gutterson was all smiles with Rylan, but when he turned those snake blue eyes on her, Rachel knew they would be playing a dangerous game with each other. 

* * *

**4)** **♫** **He looks like a cool drink of water** **♫**

If Rachel thought the ladies in the courthouse and Marshal's office swooned over Raylan upon his arrival, it was nothing compared to the panties that dropped each time Tim walked the halls of the building. All the ladies were in love with the tall, slim, good looking, blue eye ex-army Ranger sniper, who walked with confidence and a swing in his hips. 

_'If they only knew that he was the devil in disguise. A snake with blue eyes._ ' Rachel often thought when she heard their giggling whispers, and witnessed their lustful looks when Tim walked by. 

* * *

**5)** **♫** **That girl is so dangerous** **♫**

  
Ever since their first meeting, Tim knew Rachel was not a woman to be trifled with. He knew, and yet he could not restrain himself from trying to get under her skin. Rachel was always calm and collected; never giving anything away and he wanted to see her flustered.

However, that want turned into something else entirely when he witnessed her drop a 6'4", 300lbs fugitive. Rachel was merciless and went for the man's weakest points, dropping him without breaking a sweat. 

If Tim came three times that night in his hand, to the memory of Rachel getting the best of the fugitive, but with Tim in his place instead, well no one had to know.

* * *

**6)** **♫** **I never knew daylight could be so violent** **♫**

They both woke with painful bruises, the morning after that fateful encounter in the dead drug lord's office the previous night. Tim's face was covered in dark bruises, he had a split lip, and a headache from being pistol whipped. Whereas, Rachel was suffering from a sore neck, from how hard Tim had pulled on her ponytail during their fight, and she had to wear a wrist brace as a result of being kicked twice on it. Her cheek had a nasty bruise, as well as her forehead from headbutting Tim. 

It had been a long time since both of them woke to daylight, feeling as though they were run over by a truck.

* * *

**7)** **♫** **'Cause you're a criminal as long as you're mine** **♫**

Within the office, there were not so subtle whispers that Tim _belonged_ to Rachel. It was whispered within the halls of the courthouse; eyes watching as Rachel would come and go, often with Tim trailing behind her. His eyes on her and only her. 

There were whispered rumours about how close they were and having more than a work relationship. Rachel and Tim could only roll their eyes, as only they knew the truth about their still slightly acrimonious relationship.

However, the day a courthouse guard dared to utter a sexually crude taunt to Rachel's face in front of Tim; well the only thing Tim could do was break the guard's nose in full view of everyone who was in the corridor that day, much to Rachel's shock.

Since that day, the rumour mill was at full speed where Rachel and Tim were considered. 

* * *

**8)** **♫** **You and I go hard at each other like we're going to war** **♫**

In Tim's opinion, asking Rachel to spar with him, in the underground gym of their workplace was a rather brave or stupid idea; depends on who you asked. Tim was the best fighter from his squad, but Rachel was giving him a run for his money. So far, they have both landed two hits each on each other, but ever other hit has been blocked. 

He had never met anyone who could go toe-to-toe with him, and it was making Tim excited in more ways than one. 

* * *

9) **♫** **You hit me like a hurricane** **♫**

Rachel could not get those piercing cornflower blue eyes, smart mouth and Texan drawl out of her head. It had been three weeks since she met 'Tim' and she could not forget him. Her bruises had faded enough to visit her favourite bar without raising any eyebrows. She had been content, playing pool by herself, ignoring the men who approached her, until certain man stepped in the bar, whom she definitely could not ignore.

She didn't think she would ever see him again. But here he was, standing before her, blue eyes alight with mischief and secrets; and it hit Rachel hard like a burning shot of whisky, how silently dangerous he was like the eye of a hurricane.

* * *

**10)** **♫** **He's so bad but he does it so well** **♫**

Tim was only 5'8", but he was dangerous. In the third month of his training as a U.S. Marshal, Rachel watched as he took down a 6'4", 300lbs escaped convict (the same one she had dropped a few months earlier), with a solid kick to his left knee efficiently and savagely breaking it, before punching him squarely in his throat. 

The man was dangerous.

Rachel knew this from their very first encounter, but to witness him carry out such an attack without so much as a blink or shift in facial muscles, she realised that that night in the dead drug lord's office, Tim was pulling his punches. Yes, she did walk away with a few cuts and bruises, but if he had been as half as serious and vicious, like he was with that convict, Rachel had to wonder if she would be alive today. 

However, nothing could ever compare to the quiet air of danger, which surrounded him any time he had to pull out his sniper rifle. Rachel on two occasions, laid on her stomach right beside Tim as he looked down his sniper's scope and pulled the trigger. And both times Rachel berated herself for the filthy thoughts that she had. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used:
> 
> 1) Candyman - Christina Aguilera  
> 2 & 3) Bad Things - Jace Everett  
> 4) Cowboy Casanova - Carrie Underwood  
> 5) Dangerous - Kardinal Offishall  
> 6) No Light, No Light - Florence and the Machine  
> 7) Bad Romance - Lady Gaga  
> 8) One More Night - Maroon 5  
> 9) Hurricane - Luke Combs  
> 10) Wildest Dreams - Taylor Swift


End file.
